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\°°<. 


















PEGGY 

OF BEACON HILL 


BY 

MAYSIE GREIG 



BOSTON 

SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 






4 



Copyright, 1924 

By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 

(Incorporated) 


x, 



Printed in the United States of America 









THE MURRAY PRINTING COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 

THE BOSTON BOOKBINDING COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 





RUG 13 '24 





TO 

De r. greig smith 


WHO HAS ALWAYS BEER TO ME A 
PAL FIRST AND THEN A 
FATHER, THIS BOOK 


IS DEDICATED 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PACE 

I. The Open Cage. 3 

II. Broken Troth.18 

III. Jack is Doubtful.26 

IV. Peggy Comes to Beacon Hill . . 34 

V. Peggy Has a Surprise .... 44 

VI. The Woman in Black .... 54 

VII. At the Yellow Dragon Coffee House 63 

VIII. Doug Explains.72 

IX. Breakfast for Two.81 

X. Jenny Shows Her Hand ... 90 

XI. Masks Off.99 

XII. “ I Love You ”.108 

XIII. A Strange Warning.117 

XIV. The Toast.126 

XV. The Love Gamble.136 

XVI. Cards Down.146 

XVII. The Escape.156 

XVIII. Joe Takes a Hand.165 

XIX. Peggy Learns Some News . . . 174 

vii 










viii 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PACE 


XX. 

White Diamonds 

. . 183 

XXI. 

At the Fancy Dress Ball . 

. . 192 

XXII. 

Peggy Makes a Decision . 

. . 202 

XXIII. 

Joe is Loyal .... 

. . 211 

XXIV. 

Jenny’s Story .... 

. . 220 

XXV. 

The Trial . *. 

. . 229 

XXVI. 

The Barrier Between . 

. . 237 

XXVII. 

Joe Speaks His Mind . 

. . 246 

XXVIII. 

The Supper Party . 

. . 255 

XXIX. 

Jenny Makes a Resolve . 

. . 264 

XXX. 

Joe Comes up to Snatch . 

. . 273 

XXXI. 

Peggy Leaves the Hill . 

. . 283 


0 







PEGGY 

OF BEACON HILL 



PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


CHAPTER I 
The Open Cage 

Peggy was darning a sheet when the thought 
came to her. Sitting by the window that looked 
out onto the courtyard of a huge red brick 
apartment building in North Cambridge she sud¬ 
denly paused with her needle in the air. 

“ Cages — that’s what they all are,” she mur¬ 
mured resentfully half aloud — half to herself 
as her glance swept the tiers of closely packed 
apartments. “Little two-roomed—three-roomed 
cages. Each of them holds some woman, and 
she has about as much real liberty as my canary 
over there. All day long she flits about from 
kitchen to dining room — from dining room to 
parlor, like some poor cooped-up bird. Meals 
— eternal meals — washing up — dusting — 
scrubbing, and who gives her any credit for it? 
Certainly not her lord and master. All he can 
do is to grumble when the food isn’t cooked to 
his liking or if his slippers aren’t in their usual 
place. Caged — that’s what I’ll be when I 


4 


PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


marry Joe. It’ll be just like stepping out of 
one cage into another-” 

Unheeded the sheet slipped from her knee 
onto the floor. She seemed to have forgotten all 
about it when a shrill voice from somewhere in 
the rear of the apartment broke into her 
thoughts. 

“ Margaret — Margaret — have you finished 
that sheet yet? The laundry man should be 
here any moment-” 

Savagely Peggy stooped and picked it up, 
stretching the tear so roughly across her knees 
that it slit to twice its original size. “ Oh, 
damn,” she murmured, “ don’t I just hate this 
sort of thing! I wish I worked for my living like 
other girls I know. I wouldn’t care what I did. 
Anything so long as I could call my soul my 
own.” 

Vigorously she jabbed the needle into the thin 
grayish linen, cobbling the slit together with her 
large untidy stitcfies. 

Spring sunlight streamed in upon her as she 
worked, throwing up the red gold lights in her 
unruly mop of curly brown hair. Strictly speak¬ 
ing, Peggy Mason wasn’t beautiful, and yet 
there was something strangely fascinating about 
her. From her bobbed hair to her little feet 


THE OPEN CAGE 


5 


that never could be still, she vibrated vitality 
and what the French call joie de vivre. Her 
face was oval and her features so absurdly small 
that they gave her a sort of piquant elf-like look 
that was accentuated by her small retrousse 
nose slightly flecked at the tip. She was slight, 
almost boyish in figure, and she generally 
affected clothes cut in straight, simple lines. Her 
gray eyes, that usually glinted mischievously, 
were now strangely sombre as she continued her 
interrupted meditation. 

“ What on earth am I getting married for 
anyway?” she questioned herself. “ It’s not as 
if I was crazy over Joe. I like him all right 
but-” 

“ ’Lo, Peg.” 

Someone was rapping on the window pane. 
Peggy sprang up and crossing to it she flung the 
window wide open. 

“ Oh, hello, Rosie,” she said. 

“ Busy, Peg?” queried the girl outside. 
“ Thought I’d drop over for a few seconds.” 

“ Come right in,” said Peggy. “ Only trying 
to cobble up the old sheet. Can’t think why 
auntie bothers about it. It’s only fit for shoe 
rags. Go on up and I’ll open the front door for 
you.” 



6 


PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


As she spoke she walked out into the hall and 
pressed the button marked “ Vestibule.” 

She was rather glad to see Rosie today she 
reflected as she stood waiting for her friend to 
let herself in. Usually she was a little bored 
with her. Rosie Holden was a young married 
matron with a thoroughly conventional outlook, 
entirely wrapped up in a stodgy husband and a 
minute apartment in which she was forever 
repainting the kitchen and rearranging the 
furniture. 

“ How do you like the sofa over in the corner, 
Peg?” she’d say. “J ust been changing the things 
around a bit. Is it all right where it is or do you 
think it would look better-?” 

“ Oh, leave it there,” Peggy would put in 
quickly. “ If you go on, Rosie, you’ll be twisting 
the things around some night in your sleep.” 

But at the moment Peggy felt a strong desire 
to talk to some one, it didn’t matter whom, any 
one would have done, but since Rosie was 
here- 

“ How are things today, Peg?” Rosie asked 
when they were seated in the parlor and Peggy 
had returned to mending the sheet. 

Peggy grimaced slightly. “ Duller than 
usual,” she replied. Rosie laughed. 




THE OPEN CAGE 


7 


“ You’re never satisfied,” she said. “ You 
ought to be glad that you live in Boston and not 
in some out-of-the-way small town.” 

“ Boston!” Peggy glared back. “ What good 
is it to me? What do I ever see of the gay city 
life that you read about in magazines? I tell you, 
Rosie, you might as well be on Main Street as 
stuck out here. It’s just far enough out to have 
its own shops and movies with the result it’s like 
a little community in itself and you hardly ever 
get into Boston-” 

“ Shucks, Peg,” smiled Rosie, “ if you’re so 
keen on city life why don’t you go into an office? 
Be a stenog or something.” 

“ Wish I could,” said Peggy ruefully. “But 
you see father’s so set on the notion that a 
woman’s place is in the home. He wouldn’t 
even give me money enough to take a business 
course. Said he guessed that he could take care 
of me until Mr. Right came along. If I’d some 
money of my own I would have cleared out long 
ago.” 

There was a short pause while Peggy folded 
the sheet and took it out to her aunt in the 
kitchen. 

“ Honest, Peg,” said Rosie as her chum came 
back into the room, “ I don’t see what you’ve 



8 


PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


got to kick about. You’ve a good home and 
you’re going with a steady fellow. I thought 
you and Joe were to be married when he gets 
through his finals at the Tech this summer.” 

Peggy shrugged. 

“ Maybe we are and maybe we’re not,” she 
said. 

Rosie crossed over to her and put one arm 
around the younger girl’s waist. 

“ Come out of it, kid,” she said. “ You’ve 
got a fit of the blues today.” Then in an effort 
to cheer her friend she added, “ Bring Joe over 
tonight and we’ll play Mah Jongg.” 

Inwardly Peggy shuddered. Nothing bored 
her more than those evenings at Mah Jongg 
with the Holdens. George Holden was always 
so fussy about getting the wall quite straight 
and they never could agree on how many times 
to throw the dice. Besides they rigidly refused 
to play for anything but matches. Matches! 
When Peggy Mason craved excitement such as 
she read of in novels that described the life led 
in fashionable gambling dens! 

“ I’m sorry, Rosie, but Joe seems to have gone 
off Mah Jongg lately,” she said, woman-like, 
shifting the blame. “ Besides, I guess he’ll want 
to see the new program at the Movie House.” 


THE OPEN CAGE 


9 


Then suddenly voicing a question that had 
been haunting her for some weeks she added 
seriously, 

“ Tell me, Rosie, is there much catch in this 
getting married stunt after all? I’ve been think¬ 
ing it over lately. Doesn’t seem to me as though 
you’re any better off married than you are when 
you’re single.” 

Rosie positively gasped. To her conventional 
soul Peggy had uttered little short of blasphemy. 

“ Why — Peggy Mason,” she exclaimed, 
“ whoever gave you that idea? Of course 
there’s no comparison. Just think — when 
you’re married you’ve got a man of your own 
and a home of your own to do whatever you 
please in — you’ll like it fine, Peg, directly you 
get settled down-” 

“ But I don’t want to settle down,” Peggy 
cried, her eyes flashing furiously. “ That’s 
about the last thing I want to do. Why, Rosie, 
I haven’t begun to live yet! I tell you I want to 
do more with my life than cook three meals a 
day for an ungrateful husband and raise a brood 
of noisy children. I want to see life — real 
life — the sort you read of in books. I want to 
meet interesting people — artists — writers — 
musicians — I want to be made love to by men 



10 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


of the world — not by raw college fellows who 
think just because they buy you a dollar box of 
candy that they’ve an option on your kisses. I 
want to get right away from suburbs and con¬ 
ventions. If I’m to live in Boston I’d like to live 
on Beacon Hill. I met a girl once who lived 
there and she told me she had a wonderful time 
— met all sorts of clever bohemian people. Oh, 
Rosie, you don’t know how I hate this sort of 
life.” 

She paused momentarily and then with one of 
those swift changes of mood that were charac¬ 
teristic of her she laughed suddenly. 

“ Sound like the heroine of some stock com¬ 
pany, don’t I? Guess you’re thinking I ought to 
be on the stage!” 

Later when Rosie had gone back to her apart¬ 
ment to start cooking the evening meal Peggy’s 
aunt told her that there was a letter awaiting 
her on the hall stand. Peggy lost no time in 
fetching it. Letters of any description were rare 
enough in her life to make the arrival of one 
quite an event. Picking it up she saw that the 
envelope was typewritten and, as she carried it 
to the window, Peggy was conscious of a strange 
thrill of anticipation. 

The afternoon was closing in. The sun had 


THE OPEN CAGE 


11 


dipped below the horizon, leaving a sky redder 
even than the red brick apartment building that 
seemed uglier and more ungainly than ever in 
the first flush of twilight. Shadows like gray 
phantoms were creeping in through the windows, 
closing around Peggy as she stood reading and 
rereading the typewritten sheet of paper. 

At first she didn’t seem able to grasp it quite. 
It was so different from anything she had 
expected. A lawyer’s name appeared at the 
head of the paper, the note was brief and to the 
point. A brother of her mother’s had died and 
had left her a legacy of a thousand dollars. 

At first the full significance of it didn’t dawn 
on Peggy. A thousand dollars was a lot of 
money; more money in fact than she had ever 
dreamt of possessing, but — then suddenly she 
stood rigid and a little cry escaped her. 

Why — why — that thousand dollars would 
mean her freedom. It would mean that hence¬ 
forth she could be her own mistress — free to do 
as she pleased — free to live where she chose. 
No longer need she remain under the narrow rule 
of her father — no longer need she contemplate 
marrying Joe as the one means of escape from it. 

Looking out onto the glowing horizon sud¬ 
denly Peggy’s whole future life seemed to stretch 


12 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


before her,— a vista of glorious possibilities,— 
possibilities that set her dreaming until her aunt 
summoned her to set the places for supper. 

It was typical of Peggy’s father that when 
she told him of her good fortune at the table he 
merely raised his eyebrows and remarked gruffly, 
“ That so? It isn’t good for a young girl to have 
a lot of money in her hands all at once. Apt to 
turn her head. Pat Murphy should have had 
more sense.” 

For in truth John Mason had no love for any 
of his late wife’s relatives. He distrusted their 
Irish descent, sweeping them all aside with the 
epithets “ frivolous,” “ flighty ” or “ no com¬ 
mon sense.” 

Himself of stern Quaker stock he had been 
reared in a small middle western town and, 
although for the last ten years he had been 
connected with a tire factory in Boston, he had 
never gotten over the hard, joyless training of 
his youth. Since his wife’s early death he had 
drawn himself further and further into a shell 
until now his whole interest was centered in his 
work. 

“ Work and more work ” was his motto and 
one which he expected his entire family to abide 
by. 


THE OPEN CAGE 


13 


Peggy’s aunt — a colorless replica of her 
brother, who for some years past had been in 
charge of the household, murmured, “ That will 
make a nice little nest egg for you, Margaret, 
when you marry Joe.” 

At her words Peggy drew a sharp breath, 
clenched her hands tightly together and said 
breathlessly, “Auntie, I don’t think that I want 
to marry Joe after all.” 

Complete silence greeted her remark. Three 
pair of eyes stared at her in surprise from across 
the table, while her father went so far as to put 
down the fork with which he had been pro¬ 
pelling baked beans into his mouth. 

But it was her brother Jack, a young engi¬ 
neering student at Technology, who finally broke 
the silence. 

“ Say, Sis, you’re crazy. Joe’s an awfully 
good scout. You’re lucky to have gotten hold of 
him at all.” 

Then her father said to her: “ Damn non¬ 
sense. This bit of money has put ideas into 
your head. Might I ask why you don’t intend 
to marry Joe?” 

His eyes glared at her accusingly, but for once 
Peggy’s glance did not waver. Her old fear of 
her father seemed miraculously to have left her. 


14 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Already she was conscious of a new sensation of 
power — money power. She answered him 
without hesitation. 

“ I want to see more of life before I marry, 
Father. Nearly all my girl friends are already 
working at something and, like them, I want to 
have a career.” 

Another sileifce. Miss Mason, completely 
flustered, glanced anxiously from her brother to 
her niece. Her thin hands clasped and un¬ 
clasped themselves in her lap; she was always 
terrified when her brother was angry. 

“ Margaret — please don’t upset your father,” 
she begged, and to herself she added, “ Oh dear, 
I always knew something like this would happen 
when John married that little Irish actress. I 
knew at the time that she wasn’t his sort — and 
Peggy’s so lamentably like her mother used to 
be.” 

“ I suppose,” John Mason remarked presently 
with a touch of grim irony, “ that like most girls 
of your age you think that your vocation is the 
stage, or is it the movies which are more fash¬ 
ionable amongst your set just now? I daresay 
that you imagine that all the managers will be 
eager to have you?” 

And Peggy, with a touch of her Irish humor 


THE OPEN CAGE 


15 


that was never dormant for long, replied mis¬ 
chievously, “ Sure, Father. I know that Mr. D. 
W. Griffith has only to see me to offer to star me 
in his next production, while I guess that Mr. 
Ziegfeld would be just tickled to death to have 
me join the Follies. Still — I’m not over keen 
for notoriety,— I’m thinking of going into busi¬ 
ness. Perhaps you would advise me?” 

She paused — fearing she had gone too far. 
Her father was so apt to take her joking seri¬ 
ously. John Mason had never understood his 
daughter any more than he had understood the 
pretty little Irish actress who, finding herself 
stranded in an out-of-the-way small town, had 
married him in much the same spirit as society 
women enter convents. In a moment of weari¬ 
ness and depression she had thought of him as a 
refuge from the eternal struggle of her stage 
life. His stubbornness she had mistaken for 
strength; his silence for depths of soul. Theirs 
had not been a happy marriage. Almost from 
the first she had chafed against the yoke which 
he had never tried to lighten. Shortly after 
Peggy’s birth, broken-spirited, the little mother 
had half-heartedly consented to go away with 
a young doctor, but the automobile which was 
carrying her and her lover out of town had 


16 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


crashed into an express train at the railroad 
crossing, killing them both instantly. 

The news of his wife’s unfaithfulness had 
affected John Mason far more than the news of 
her death; the latter he had regarded more or 
less as a rightful act of justice, and now as 
Peggy sat before him — her face flushed — her 
eyes shining eagerly, he seemed to see again in 
her the wife who had trampled on his honor, 
and his heart hardened. 

“ See here, girl,” he said grimly, “ let’s under¬ 
stand each other once and for all. You know 
my views about women working for their living. 
That’s what’s wrong with the world today — 
too many darn fool women meddling in affairs 
that should not concern them. They’ve no more 
place in business offices than I would have in 
the kitchen washing up their dishes. You may 
think I’m old-fashioned, but that’s my idea and 
as long as you stay in my house you’ve got to 
abide by it. You’re of age. If you want to 
make a fool of yourself you’re free to do it. But 
remember this — you don’t come back whining 
to me to keep you once your money’s gone. My 
door’s closed to you. Understand that.” 

Peggy had gone rather white while her father 
was speaking. Although he had shown her little 


THE OPEN CAGE 


17 


affection, still he was the only parent she had 
ever known and in a way she loved him. And 
yet all the while she was conscious of something 
urging her on — the new feeling of power that 
her sudden wealth had brought her. 

“ But, Father,” she began, “ I don’t want to 
go against your wishes. If you’d only 
realize-” 

But she never finished her sentence, for at 
that moment the doorbell echoed shrilly through 
the room, and her brother, anxious to escape 
from the row between Peggy and her father, 
remarked quickly, “ I guess that’s Joe. I’ll go 
down and let him in.” 



CHAPTER II 


Broken Troth 

Immediately upon entering the room Joe was 
conscious of a certain tension in the atmosphere. 
Peggy’s father, who usually welcomed him 
cordially, sat buried behind the evening paper 
from which he made no attempt to emerge. 
Peggy’s aunt was still sitting at the table — a 
pained, hopeless expression on her face, while 
Peggy herself — flushed and defiant — stood 
with her back to the mantel shelf — one heel 
tapping impatiently on the floor. 

Coming along the corridor Jack Mason had 
mumbled to Joe something about “ family scene 
in progress ” so Joe, not wishing to interfere in 
anything which he imagined didn’t concern him, 
lost no time in saying to Peggy: 

“ I’ve the flivver waiting outside, Peg. It’ll 
be fine driving tonight. There’s a full moon. 
Hurry and get on your hat and coat.” 

Peggy hesitated momentarily. She had not 
meant to go riding with Joe that night. She had 
intended to tell him of her decision to break 
18 



BROKEN TROTH 


19 


their engagement and then let him go, but — 
it was hot and stuffy in the parlor and outside, 
she knew, there would be a cool, fresh breeze. 
Besides, she preferred to break it to him when 
they were alone. At the moment she felt that 
her nerves were unstrung and she didn’t want 
to face another scene immediately on top of the 
last. Her head was aching slightly. She longed 
to be out in the air. 

“ All right, Joe,” she said as she crossed into 
the hall, “ I won’t be a minute getting ready.” 

As he watched her going there was an expres¬ 
sion in Joe’s eyes that was akin to worship. Big 
and easy-going he had fallen hard for small, 
vivacious Peggy with her gay laughter and wild 
impulsive ways. He was quite good-looking 
with thick black hair and big brown eyes. In 
many ways he seemed in direct contrast to 
Peggy and yet there was about both of them a 
certain strength of will — a directness of purpose 
that had yet to come into conflict. 

Sitting waiting for her he tried to converse 
with her father but that night he found Mr. 
Mason singularly uncommunicative. 

Even tactfully worded questions on the sub¬ 
ject of the month’s output at the tire factory 
failed to bring forth the usual enthusiastic 


20 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


response and Joe had just about given it up when 
Peggy came back into the room. 

She was looking very pretty that night, he 
thought, in a short flame-colored woolen jacket 
over a white linen frock with a little white ribbon 
hat that came low down over her forehead. 
There was something singularly fresh about 
Peggy. As she came into that overheated 
parlor, Joe was suddenly reminded of a fresh, 
invigorating breeze striking across stale, parched 
plains. Impulsively he rose and took her by the 
arm. 

“ Come along,” he said. “ I’ve some studying 
to do when I get back, so we can’t be out for 
long.” 

As they walked across the courtyard Peggy 
glanced up at the myriad of lights shining 
through stiff muslin curtains. Through the open 
windows each room looked alike to her — the 
same over-stuffed set of furniture — the same 
tall lamp with the heavy silken shade — the 
same round table at which the family sat at 
dinner. Suddenly the uniformity of it all 
appalled her and she felt the urge to escape from 
it all so strongly that unconsciously she felt for 
the letter in her pocket. Yes, it was still there 
— that brief note that was to change the whole 


BROKEN TROTH 


21 


course of her life. Funny, she thought, to think 
that it had all happened since lunch time. 

“ I think we’ll go round by Concord,” said 
Joe as he helped her into the car. 

Peggy nodded and soon they had passed by 
the shops and closely packed houses and were 
out in the country. It was a perfect night. The 
moon hung in the heavens like a huge Chinese 
lantern swaying amid a maze of billowy gray 
clouds. A slight breeze rippled the trees’ new 
leaves; the smell of spring was in the air. Here 
and there automobiles were drawn up by the 
wayside and Peggy caught a glimpse of couples 
wandering among the trees. It was a night for 
love and lovers, but as Peggy lay back with her 
hat off and the breeze rushing through her hair 
her thoughts were far from love. 

She was picturing herself in a new life — the 
life that her sudden wealth was to open up for 
her. Already she was at the head of some suc¬ 
cessful business — making money — lots of it 
— already men — men of the world were vying 
for her leisure hours — now — in a wonderful 
Parisian evening gown of lace and golden tissue 
she was dining at the Copley Plaza Hotel — 
now in a big blue limousine she was driving 
through the streets to the theatre- 



22 


PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ Anything wrong tonight, Peg?” Joe’s voice 
broke in upon her thoughts—“You seem dif¬ 
ferent this evening somehow. Sort of quiet.” 

As he spoke he drove the car a little off the 
road and, switching off the headlights, he would 
have taken her in his arms only she evaded him. 

“ Please, Joe,” she murmured. “ I’ve a head¬ 
ache.” 

“ Sorry, Peg,” he said. “ But I couldn’t help 
it. You just look so sweet tonight. Gee, I don’t 
know how a fellow could keep from loving 
you.” 

Peggy turned away from him, a lump seemed 
to have risen in her throat. She was beginning 
to realize that it would be harder to break with 
Joe than she had thought. Away from him it 
seemed quite simple. She had rehearsed the 
scene many times in her mind. But, somehow, 
with him beside her in the moonlight — his 
pleasant, clear-cut features silhouetted against 
the darkness — his steady brown eyes gazing 
down at her — it didn’t seem so easy. She liked 
him — that was the worst of it. At times she 
almost imagined that she loved him. That was 
when he held her in his arms. She felt so small 
— like a child almost crushed up against him. 
His tall frame enveloped her; she barely came 


BROKEN TROTH 


23 


up to his shoulder; she felt content then; he 
appealed to her in that way. 

“ Joe,” she said suddenly, “ I’ve something 
to tell you-” 

“ And IVe something to tell you, Peg,” he 
interrupted, smiling as he reached across for her 
hands. “ I had a letter from dad this morning 
—you know I wrote and told him that we—well, 
that I want to marry you when I get through 
at the Tech this summer. And what do you 
think he said? Why, Peggy girl, he’s just tickled 
to death about it. Said he’d always been crazy 
to have a daughter and somehow he knew that 
you were just going to fit the bill. He wants 
us to get married in June and come home right 
away. Won’t it be fine, Peg? He’s going to 
give me a job in the works — a good one, he 
says. And listen, Peg, he’s even going to look 
at a home for us — one of those cute little 
houses north end of Main Street that they were 
putting up when I was home last summer.” 

Yes, yes — Peggy could picture them clearly 

— far too clearly. Small wooden houses all 
alike — the same little front porches — the same 
little patches of garden at the back — worse 

— oh, infinitely worse than where she was living 

now- 




24 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ It’s only a small town,” Joe was saying, “but 
I know you’ll like it fine, Peg, once you get 
settled, for they’re real people down there-” 

“ Stop, please stop,” Peggy cried suddenly, 
her nerves strung to breaking point. “ I should 
have told you before, Joe. It was wrong of me 
not to. I can’t marry you next summer, Joe — 
nor any time. Oh, you’ll hate me I know, but I 
can’t help it-” 

She paused, her sentence in the air, and waited 
breathlessly. Why didn’t he say something? 
The silence was getting on her nerves. She had 
read of men, in a fit of passion, suddenly killing 
the girls who jilted them. She stole a glance at 
him sideways. He was sitting staring ahead of 
him — almost as though he had not heard her. 
Another minute passed; she felt vaguely fright¬ 
ened— wished now that she had told him at 
home in the presence of her family. 

Then he spoke and to Peg his voice sounded 
as though it came from a bottomless pit. 

“ You can’t mean that,” he said slowly. “ It’s 
unbelievable — unthinkable. Why it’s — it’s 
absurd. Either you or I must be mad, Peggy.” 

“ I’m not mad,” said Peggy. “ I’m sorry, Joe 
— but I can’t help it. I thought that I loved 
you but lately I’ve found that I don’t-” 





BROKEN TROTH 


25 


Another silence and then suddenly he threw 
back his head and laughed a hollow laugh. 

“ What a fool — what a fool I’ve been,” he 
said. 


CHAPTER III 


Jack is Doubtful 

Peggy stared at him in surprise. 

“ You haven’t been a fool, Joe. You couldn’t 
help it. Neither could I for that matter. It 
just happened—that’s all. Lots of people fall in 
love and out again.” 

“ I know,” said Joe, “ but most men are sane 
enough not to love a girl as I’ve loved you. I 
put you on a pedestal and sort of worshipped 
you. Nothing you could do was wrong in my 
eyes — that’s where I’ve been the fool. I should 
have seen from the beginning that you were 
much the same as other girls — a little vain — 
a little selfish. I shouldn’t have expected too 
much. Do you know that all the time I’ve been 
going with you I’ve never even looked at 
another girl?” 

“ I know,” said Peggy sharply. 

She was feeling angry with him anyhow. 
What did he mean by calling her vain and 
selfish? “ Perhaps I wouldn’t have got so bored 
with you if you’d shown a little more spunk. 
A girl likes to have to scheme a bit to hold her 
26 





JACK IS DOUBTFUL 


27 


fellow — to keep him away from other girls — 
the sort whom she thinks might vamp him. 
There’s no fun in holding onto a man when 
you’re dead sure he’s never going to leave 


“ I thought,” said Joe quietly, “ that when 
a couple loved — really loved, I mean — they 
liked to feel sure of each other.” 

“ That’s only in books,” said Peggy. “ In 
real life — well it sort of takes the spice out of 
romance when you’re too sure.” 

“ Then you’re throwing me over because 
you’re bored with me, eh?” Joe asked bluntly. 

“ Not altogether,” replied Peggy. She was 
beginning to feel a little sorry now for all she 
had said to him. “ I like you in a way, Joe — 
honest, I do. But I don’t want to marry any 
one for years and years. I want to see more of 
life first. I’m going to have a career.” 

“ That’s news,” said Joe. “ I thought your 
father was dead set against it.” 

“ So he is,” said Peggy. 

Then without looking at him she told him of 
the lawyer’s letter she had received that after¬ 
noon and of the thousand dollar legacy from 
her dead uncle. 

“ I’m beginning to see clearer now,” Joe 



28 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


remarked presently and the bitterness in his 
voice hurt Peggy strangely. “ I know you 
haven’t been happy at home and I suppose that 
as long as there was no other means of escape 
you were willing enough to marry me. But 
now that the money’s come you don’t want me 
any longer. I can go to the devil for all you 
care.” 

He finished with a short, hollow laugh and 
all of a sudden tears came into Peggy’s eyes. 

“ Don’t take it that way — please, Joe,” she 
said. “ I guess I’ve explained it badly. I wish 
I could make you understand-” 

“ Oh, I understand all right,” he told her 
grimly. “ And listen, Peggy, I can’t stop loving 
you just because you’ve jilted me. That’s 
impossible. But until now I’ve loved you as 
some one far above me — treated you more or 
less as a plaster saint. That’s over. I love you 
now much as I’d love any other woman who 
attracted me — perhaps it’s a pity I didn’t do 
so from the beginning.” And, without any 
warning he seized her roughly in his arms — 
straining her to him while he covered her face 
and throat with kisses — wild, hungry kisses, 
that left Peggy limp and trembling. This was 
a part of Joe she had never known before and 



JACK IS DOUBTFUL 


29 


it thrilled while it frightened her. At first she 
fought against him for although she had often 
lain in his arms somehow, now that she had 
definitely broken with him, it didn’t seem right. 
But her efforts were futile, like a kitten strug¬ 
gling against a great Newfoundland dog. 

Presently he released her. 

“ That’s good-bye, Peggy,” he said. “ Per¬ 
haps that will be something for you to remem¬ 
ber me by — now I’ll take you home.” 

He switched on the headlights and started up 
the flivver. It was a lovely night; all around 
the woods seemed to be floating in a sea of 
yellow moonlight and yet to Peggy the beauty 
of the night seemed dimmed. Occasionally she 
stole glances at Joe as he remained silent by 
her side. There was something stern and relent¬ 
less about him as he sat at the steering wheel; 
his mouth set in a straight line and his eyes 
fixed rigidly on the road ahead of him. Surely 
this wasn’t the Joe she had known for years — 
the big easy-going Joe whom she had teased 
and made fun of. He suddenly seemed like a 
stranger to her. 

Peggy sat huddled in a corner of the car. 
She was very tired, she felt almost as though 
she wanted to cry and was yet too weary even 


30 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


to do that. Doubts, too, began to torment her. 
Woman-like, she began to wonder if she had 
been wise to break with Joe, if, after all, it 
wasn’t stupid of her to have quarrelled with both 
him and her father at the same time. 

They had reached Cambridge by this time and 
the flivver was drawn up before the red brick 
apartment house where Peggy lived. 

Half reluctantly she climbed out of the 
automobile and stood for a moment on the 
pavement waiting to see if Joe would follow her. 
But as he made no attempt to do so she turned 
towards him and said in a small voice: 

“ At least, Joe, we can be friends.” 

He looked at her strangely and then shook 
his head. 

“ Nothing doing, Peggy,” he said. “ You 
can’t be just friends with a girl you love. At 
first all the time you’re with her you’re crazy 
to be something more and that’s maddening 
and then, when you’re past that stage, she begins 
to bore you.” 

He hesitated momentarily as though he in¬ 
tended to say something more but he evidently 
changed his mind for, without another word to 
her, he pressed the self-starter and shot off down 
the road. 


JACK IS DOUBTFUL 


31 


Peggy remained standing on the pavement 
until the car had passed out of sight. Then 
wearily she turned into the courtyard. She 
hoped no one was waiting up for her; her 
thoughts were in a turmoil and all she wanted 
was to rest. She was creeping quietly to her 
bedroom when her brother called to her. 

“ Come into the parlor, Sis, I want to talk 
to you. Everyone else has gone to bed.” 

Peggy walked to the doorway and stood there 
leaning her head against the wall. 

“ Couldn’t it wait until the morning, Jack? 
I’m really too tired tonight.” 

“ Well I like that,” he said. “ Considering 
I missed out on a party at the American House 
to wait up for you. You know you’re never 
up when I leave home in the morning.” 

Peggy came into the room and, throwing her 
hat and coat on a chair she sank down onto 
the sofa. Jack was standing by the fireplace 
smoking his pipe. He was not unlike Peggy; 
slightly taller with hair that verged more towards 
red. He was good-looking in a dapper way. 

“ What happened between you and Joe?” he 
asked presently. 

Peggy looked away from him. “ It’s all off,” 
she said slowly. 


32 


PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Jack drew at his pipe for a moment before 
replying. 

“ Poor devil/’ he said. “ You know he was 
awfully gone on you, Peg. And mind you I 
think you’re all kinds of a fool to have let him 
go — still, it’s none of my business. You’ve 
got Father mad, too. But I don’t blame you 
for that. I couldn’t go on living here if he 
treated me the way he treats you.. For some 
reason he never interferes with me. Don’t 
know why. What are your plans, Peg?” 

“ Plans?” Peggy echoed. “ I haven’t any 
except that I mean to see something of life.” 

“Humph,” said Jack. “A thousand dollars 
won’t carry you far doing that. If I were you 
I’d put it into some business-” 

“ That’s what I mean to do,” she said. Jack 
crossed over and sank down beside her. 

“ Do you know, Sis, I heard something today 
at the frat house which may interest you. A 
fellow there, name of Gordon, said that his wife 
was going to open up a coffee house on Beacon 
Hill. As a matter of fact he asked me if I 
knew of a girl who’d like to put up a bit of 
money and go in with her. I said I didn’t 
at the time but since the scene at dinner tonight 
I’ve been thinking-” 




JACK IS DOUBTFUL 


33 


“ Yes, yes,” said Peggy. Almost miraculously 
her tiredness seemed to have left her and she 
was sitting upright, her eyes shining eagerly. 
“ Why, Jack, that sounds just the very thing 
for me and you know Pm just crazy to live on 
Beacon Hill.” 

Jack looked at her dubiously. 

“ I know,” he said. “ But these people — 
they’re awfully good sorts really, Peg, but the 
set they go with is rather wild. I’ve been on 
some parties with them. They drink a lot. 
Bohemians they call themselves. And you 
haven’t had much experience in life yet, Peggy. 
You’ve been sort of cooped up here ever since 
you were a kid. I wonder if you’ve enough 
sense to look after yourself-” 

“ Course I have, Jack,” she interrupted scorn¬ 
fully, and in her voice there sounded all the 
self-confidence of the girl of today. “ I’m no 
fool, Jack.” 

“ I know,” he said, but he still seemed doubt¬ 
ful. “ Still I suppose it’ll be all right. I’ll speak 
to Gordon about you tomorrow.” 



CHAPTER IV 

Peggy Comes to Beacon Hill 

Beacon Hill is the Greenwich Village of 
Boston. And yet, in its way, it is different, for 
it has an atmosphere that is entirely its own. 

It is the home of unconventionality, where 
the artist, the foreigner, the millionaire and the 
pauper live amicably side by side. In its day it 
has been a fashion center, a slum and now, as 
the wheel of time revolves, the rich are again 
clamoring for the homes they once discarded. 

Peggy had some difficulty in locating Maple 
Place, where Mrs. Gordon lived. She had only 
been on Beacon Hill once before. That had 
been on Christmas Eve, the one night in the year 
when strangers are drawn from all parts of the 
country to taste of the Hill’s hospitality. Peggy 
had been delighted with what she had seen. 
Rows of candles had flickered from every win¬ 
dow, making tall, narrow houses look like gaily 
festooned altars that gave out a message of good 
cheer into the night. Every blind had been 
drawn; every front door open. Peggy had 
walked about as in a dream, peeping in through 
34 


PEGGY COMES TO BEACON HILL 35 


windows at rooms where hung old world master 
paintings and tapestries, where battered brass- 
ware gleamed like beaten gold in the firelight, 
and where crowds of people were gathered to¬ 
gether making merry. 

But now in the clear light of a spring after¬ 
noon the Hill seemed strangely different. Peggy 
wandered through a network of short, steep 
streets that swarmed with grubby children 
shouting gaily to each other in a host of different 
languages. 

When finally she found Maple Place she 
began to wonder if she had been given the right 
address, for at first sight it was not prepossessing. 
It was wedged in between two tall, forbidding 
houses, and its entrance was guarded by a row 
of dust bins that discharged strange odors into 
the air. 

But soon she found herself in a narrow court¬ 
yard that was attractive in a quaint way and 
before her was a row of houses. 

She walked up to No. 5 and rattled the brass 
knocker and a moment later Mrs. Gordon her¬ 
self opened the door. 

“ Come right in,” she said, smiling a welcome. 
“ Guess you’re the little girl from Cambridge my 
husband was telling me about.” 


36 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Peggy murmured something and followed her 
into a dimly lit room. The sunlight filtered 
through dull green and yellow window draperies 
onto walls hung with Italian paintings mounted 
on strips of green damask edged with golden 
braid. The only visible lights were brass candle 
brackets full of half-burnt candles; Peggy 
thought it the strangest room she had ever seen. 

“ This is my Italian room/’ explained Mrs. 
Gordon, seeing the surprise on her guest’s face. 
“ Do sit down. Of course you’ll smoke?” 

Peggy shook her head. 

“ Thanks. No, I don’t smoke,” she said, “ I 
don’t care for it.” 

“ Then I’m glad you don’t do it,” said Mrs. 
Gordon. “ I’m sick to death of seeing girls who 
really don’t like it, smoke simply because they 
think it looks smart. If they really enjoy it — 
well, that’s another matter. Personally I adore 
it. I’d smoke a pipe if I couldn’t get enough 
cigarettes.” 

She laughed as she said it and, crossing to the 
mantel shelf, she took a cigarette and placed it 
between her lips. Peggy watched her as she lit 
it. Her chief impression of Fifi Gordon was that 
she fitted exactly into the atmosphere of the 
room. She was extremely slight, and pretty in 


PEGGY COMES TO BEACON HILL 37 


an oriental way, with straight, dusky hair that 
was coiled in circles around her head. But her 
greatest charm was the peculiar panther-like 
grace of her movements. Fifi Gordon was a 
dancer born. 

“ How do you think you’d like to serve in a 
coffee house?” she asked Peggy presently. “ As 
you know, I’m going to start one quite near here. 
A friend of my husband’s, Doug Wyman, is put¬ 
ting up most of the capital and I thought if I 
could get someone like you to come in with 


She paused and raised her eyebrows inter¬ 
rogatively at Peggy as she flicked the ash off her 
cigarette. 

“ I’m sure I should love it,” Peggy said 
quickly. “ All my life I’ve been crazy to do 
something like that.” 

Then she told Mrs. Gordon of her legacy of a 
thousand dollars and of her longing to escape 
from the dull conventionality of her home sur¬ 
roundings. 

As she talked, Fifi Gordon wandered rest¬ 
lessly about the room; Peggy soon learnt that 
she never could be still for long; but when the 
girl had finished she crossed over to her and said, 
with genuine sympathy in her voice: 



38 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ Poor kid — I know just how you feel. IVe 
been through the mill myself.” 

Then with a swift impulsive movement she 
sat down beside Peggy and put an. arm around 
the girl’s shoulders. “ I understand, because 
my first husband — Jim’s my second, you know 
— was your father’s type. We had a large 
house in Brookline and several motor cars but, 
oh, the terrible, oppressive monotony of the 
life I led there. I felt like some wild animal 
caged behind solid golden bars. My individu¬ 
ality — my very vitality seemed to be slowly 
smothering. At last I began to feel that if I 
didn’t escape I, too, would soon be stamped to 
pattern — moulded into one of the thousand 
and one women I knew, who all ate, thought and 
said the same things — daily — monthly — 
yearly. Finally I decided to run away. I left a 
note for my husband saying that I had gone 
with a lover, Jake Moran — romantic name, 
wasn’t it?” and sudden laughter shone out of 
her eyes. “ He doesn’t know even now that I 
invented it all. You see, otherwise I could never 
have made him understand that my decision to 
leave him was final.” She paused and, moving 
away from Peggy, she crushed out her cigarette. 
“ Shortly after he obtained his divorce I met 


PEGGY COMES TO BEACON HILL 39 


Jim and married him. And since then I’ve been 
happy — very happy. I was rich before and 
now ” — she shrugged her shoulders — “ it’s a 
bare scrape along — that’s all. But I’ve learnt 
the secret of happiness. It isn’t money — it 
isn’t love altogether — it’s being able to be 
yourself.” 

Peggy thought this over for a moment and 
then she said, “ I guess you’re right. Only I 
never thought of it like that before.” 

Then with a swift change of mood, Fifi said, 
“ But this isn’t getting our business through — 
Peggy— going to call you that and you 
must call me Fifi. That’s not my real name, it’s 
Florence — but everyone around here calls me 
Fifi. Do you know, Peggy, somehow I feel that 
I’m going to like you. And you can take that 
as a compliment, because I don’t like many 
women. I had a sickening of them at bridge 
parties in Brookline-” She paused sud¬ 

denly as a sharp rap sounded on the outer 
door. 

“ I guess that’s Doug Wyman,” she said as 
she got up, shaking the cigarette ashes off her 
black georgette dress. “ I told him to come 
round this afternoon to discuss the decorations 
for the coffee house. I’m seeing to that. 



40 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Interior decorating is one of my hobbies, you 
know.” 

As she left the room, Peggy crossed over to 
the window and glanced out. At the foot of the 
alley a huge blue Packard was drawn up with a 
a chauffeur in livery sitting sphinx-like at the 
wheel. A sudden thrill ran through Peggy, these 
were the people she had always wanted to know, 
women who were not afraid to live their own 
lives and men who were already some power in 
the world. 

She could hear voices in the corridor — Mrs. 
Gordon’s and a man’s and once she thought that 
she heard her own name mentioned. 

“ Forgive the council of war outside,” smiled 
Fifi, when finally she came back into the room 
followed by a well-groomed man of medium 
height, “ but I wanted to tell Doug all about 
you. Peggy Mason — Douglas Wyman,” she 
said, performing the introductions in her own 
breezy style. 

Peggy felt her hand grasped in a firm, tight 
pressure and at the same time she found herself 
gazing into a pair of smiling, steel-gray eyes. 

“ So this is Peggy,” the man said in a low, 
pleasant voice. “ I’ve been hearing some very 
flattering things about you, Peggy.” 


PEGGY COMES TO BEACON HILL 41 


Peggy felt herself flushing furiously under the 
keen scrutiny of his gaze. He seemed to be tak¬ 
ing her all in from her little rust-colored toque 
to her absurdly small feet. As a matter of fact 
he was thinking how young and fresh she looked 
against the dull background of the room — like 
some young modern thing strayed back into the 
Middle Ages. 

“ Peggy and I were just going to discuss busi¬ 
ness when you arrived, Doug,” remarked Fifi, 
“ and since you’re the principal shareholder it’s 
just as well for you to be in on the discussion.” 

Doug dropped Peggy’s hand with seeming 
reluctance and crossed over to the fireplace. 
“ Well, go ahead,” he said. 

“ The point is,” said Fifi, as she curled herself 
into a corner of the sofa, “ Peggy’s only got a 
thousand dollars altogether and no spare cash 
to live on until the coffee house begins to pay. 
And I remember you said that the person who 
came in with me should be able to put up at 
least a thousand.” 

There was a moment’s silence. Peggy’s heart 
thumped madly. Surely, surely, after floating 
this wonderful opportunity under her very nose 
they were not going to snatch it away from her 
again. 


42 


PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


She looked anxiously across at Mr. Wyman 
and he smiled at her reassuringly. 

“ Surely I didn’t say that?” he asked slowly. 
“ And even if I did I didn’t mean that we must 
stick to it rigidly. To my mind the main thing 
is to get the right person and undoubtedly that’s 
Peggy. Of course we can’t take all her capital 
away from her. A girl, I know, needs lots of 
money with which to dress and amuse herself. 
I should suggest Peggy investing four or five 
hundred dollars. That will be ample.” 

“ Don’t forget that we have to buy the 
house,” Fifi reminded him, “ and we need an¬ 
other thousand-” 

“ Don’t worry about that,” said Wyman, 
quickly. “ A man I know — a friend of mine — 
is very anxious to invest a little capital in it. He 
will make up the deficit.” 

Fifi looked across from him to Peggy and a 
curious expression crept into her eyes. 

“ Well, then, that’s fine,” she said, rising, 
“ and now let’s take Peggy around and show her 
over the place.” 

While Fifi was putting on her hat and coat, 
Peggy said to Doug, “ That was awfully kind of 
you, Mr. Wyman.” 

He turned to her with a strange smile. 



PEGGY COMES TO BEACON HILL 43 


“ Not at all,” he said. “ Please don’t mis¬ 
understand me. I’m not philanthropic. Behind 
everything I do there is a motive and,” moving 
towards her he added softly, “ some day — 
little Peggy, I may tell you what mine is in this 
case.” 

And suddenly Peggy was uncomfortably 
aware that under his keen gaze two bright spots 
of color were burning in her cheeks. 


CHAPTER V 


Peggy has a Surprise 

It was late on a Saturday afternoon. 

Peggy stood by the windo*w of her little bed¬ 
room at the Yellow Dragon Coffee House and 
looked out onto Pinckney Street. 

A week had slipped by since that first after¬ 
noon when she had come to Beacon Hill and 
had met Fifi Gordon — a week so crammed 
with events that she often wondered if it were 
not all a part of some fantastic dream. 

It had been at Doug Wyman’s suggestion that 
Peggy had come to the Coffee House to live. 
Fifi Gordon had enthusiastically seconded the 
motion and so in an incredibly short time Peggy 
had found herself installed there. 

Peggy had had an unpleasant scene with her 
father before leaving home. Despite her plead¬ 
ings he had doggedly refused to give his consent 
to the venture. The end came one night after 
Doug Wyman had brought her home in his 
Packard. It was fairly late; they had all been 
busy with the decorations and as Peggy inserted 
the key in the latch and pushed open the door, 
44 



PEGGY HAS A SURPRISE 


45 


she was surprised to see her father standing in 
the hall waiting for her. 

“ I want you to understand/’ he began, “ that 
so long as you remain in my house you keep 
respectable hours. Do you hear that?” 

“ Why, Father,” said Peggy, glancing down at 
her wrist watch, “ it’s only just twelve. Mrs. 
Gordon and I have been painting the tables.” 

“ Yes, and I suppose that fellow who owns the 
Packard has been helping you do it,” he sneered. 
“ What is his job anyway — Wyman you said 
his name was?” 

Peggy felt that she was flushing and was 
furious with herself for doing so. 

“ I don’t know, Father,” she said. “ I really 
haven’t asked him.” 

“ As likely as not he wouldn’t have told you 
if you had,” he mumbled. “ I know his sort. 
Lives on his wits probably. He doesn’t look 
as though he’d ever done an honest day’s work 
in his life.” 

“ Father! You’ve no right to say that,” 
Peggy flashed back at him. “ Mr. Wyman has 
been very kind to me.” 

A slow, ironical smile spread over her father’s 
face. 

“His sort usually are—to pretty girls,” he said. 


46 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Peggy didn’t reply, but there was the same 
look in her eyes that John Mason had seen in 
his wife’s shortly before she left him. It mad¬ 
dened him now. 

“ It was mighty lucky for Joe that you threw 
him over,” he said grimly. “ Girls like you don’t 
make good wives. I daresay that even if you’d 
married him you’d have disgraced him later on. 
Left him for some fancy fellow like your mother 
did me.” 

If he had expected Peggy to flare up he was 
disappointed. She said quietly, but there was 
no mistaking the scorn in her tones: 

“ Most likely, Father,” and, turning abruptly 
away from him, she walked into her bedroom, 
shutting the door firmly behind her. 

The next day she packed her things and left 
home for good. 

While her room at the Coffee House was being 
furnished, Peggy stayed with Fifi Gordon and 
it was then that Peggy met Fifi’s tall, handsome 
husband, Jim. Peggy loved him at once; every¬ 
body loved him; he was always gay and laugh¬ 
ing even when the laugh was against himself. 
But he could be serious and firm too when the 
occasion demanded it. Peggy could see that 
in his strong jaw and firm, straight mouth. The 


PEGGY HAS A SURPRISE 


47 


war had knocked several years out of his life 
so, although he was almost thirty, he was still 
in the student stage. 

“ How do you like my husband?” Fifi 
demanded of Peggy one night as she curled her¬ 
self on the edge of Peggy’s bed. 

“ I think he’s adorable,” smiled Peggy. 

“ I don’t blame you,” said Fifi as she stretched 
out her hand for a cigarette. “ I think the same 
myself. It was worth while defying convention 
to find Jim at the end. I had a pretty rotten 
time while the divorce was going through. 
People said such mean things. I suppose, 
according to the creed of the so-called ‘ good ’ 
people, I ought to be wallowing in misery now 
— repenting bitterly. Instead I’m wildly 
happy. I’ve found that it doesn’t pay to be self- 
sacrificing.” 

Peggy drew a little Chinese boudoir jacket 
over her nightgown. She made a pretty picture 
sitting up in bed with her hair falling loosely 
about her face. 

“ You were lucky, Fifi,” she said, “ to find 
an attractive man who was as good as Jim.” 

Fifi threw back her head and blew a cloud of 
smoke into the air. 

“ Funny child,” she mused. “ When I mar- 


48 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


ried him he wasn’t ‘ good ’— at least not techni¬ 
cally speaking. You couldn’t have preached a 
sermon on his virtue. There had been a little 
girl in Paris — a dancer at the Bal Tabarin, 
and then later an actress in New York — he 
told me all about them at the time. Even now 
he wouldn’t be above having a flirtation with a 
pretty woman if she strayed across his path. 
But I don’t mind that — it keeps him from being 
a prig. There’s no man more trying to live with 
than the one who is all the while conscious of 
his own virtue. Jim and I are just divinely 
happy together — you see, he never lets me feel 
that I’m really married to him.” 

Peggy thought it over for some time after 
Fifi had left her. It might be true what Fifi had 
said, but — somehow Peggy felt that she wanted 
her man to have loved no one but her — to 
have had no one but her — Peggy was very 
young. 

And now she stood before her window on that 
late Saturday afternoon, feeling very lonely. 
Somehow a dateless Saturday is a sorry thing, 
isn’t it? Another night she wouldn’t have 
minded, but Saturday. Fifi and Jim had gone 
on a week-end party and two days before Doug 
Wyman had left for New York. She began to 


PEGGY HAS A SURPRISE 


49 


wish that she hadn’t broken with Joe so 
definitely. 

“ Peggy — little Peggy.” 

Footsteps were coming up the stairs and at 
the sound of that low, pleasant voice, Peggy’s 
heart started to thump unsteadily. A swift 
color crept into her cheeks. She wondered if 
she should let him come into her room for, 
although Fifi had camouflaged it, turning the 
bed into a black covered divan with vivid-colored 
cushions against the wall — still, it was the 
room in which she slept. Doug Wyman was 
standing at the open door smiling at her. He 
wore a light gray overcoat and carried a gray 
felt hat in his hand. Peggy thought him very 
distinguished looking with his brown hair 
slightly gray at the temples and his small 
military moustache. She judged him to be 
between thirty-two and thirty-three years old. 

“ I saw you from the street, Peggy,” he said, 
coming into the room as though it were the 
most natural thing in the world to do. “ Look¬ 
ing just a little bit forlorn. Have they all gone 
away and left you?” 

Peggy nodded and then said, for want of 
something better to say, “ I thought you were 
in New York, Mr. Wyman.” 


50 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ So I was until this morning. But somehow 
I had a hunch that you might be feeling lonely 
the first week-end on Beacon Hill. What about 
a little dinner at the Copley Plaza?” 

“ Why that’s mighty kind of you,” said Peggy 
“ I’d just love it.” 

“ Then that’s settled,” he said. “ I’ll go down 
and wait for you in the car.” 

Peggy put on her hat and coat in a whirl of 
excitement. She had been into the Copley 
Plaza once — to meet a boy friend — but she 
had never been there to dine before. She 
delayed a moment in front of her mirror to touch 
up her lips and powder her nose — she wanted 
to look her best that evening. 

She was wearing a saucy little flame-colored 
hat with a white woolly jacket. “ You look 
awfully sweet tonight, Peggy,” murmured Doug 
as he helped her in the car. 

They talked disjointedly during the drive to 
the hotel. Somehow Peggy felt that she never 
knew quite what to say to Doug Wyman. And 
it was a new experience to her to find herself 
tongue-tied in the presence of any man. She 
had always had plenty to say to the boys she 
knew and she had liked to laugh and joke with 
them. But Doug, she felt, was different. In 


PEGGY HAS A SURPRISE 


51 


his wanderings over the globe he must have 
known so many brilliant, fascinating women — 
she was always afraid lest she should bore him. 

The head waiter, bowing profusely, showed 
them to a little table in the corner. He seemed 
to know Doug quite well, for he called him Mr. 
Wyman and presented the menu himself. 

Peggy gladly left the ordering of the dinner 
in Doug’s hands and, meanwhile, she gazed 
around her fascinated. She was thrilled with it 
all. She loved the brilliant lights; the white 
table cloths; the gleaming silver and glasses. 
She liked to watch the people — the beautifully 
dressed women with their attentive escorts. 
Suddenly she felt a little ashamed of her simple 
linen frock — wished now that she had put on 
her one silk afternoon dress. She promised 
herself that on Monday she would break into 
her thousand dollars and buy herself some fine 
clothes. Next time Doug took her out she 
vowed that he should feel proud of her. 

“ By the way, Peggy,” Doug was saying, 
“ I’ve engaged a little girl from New York to 
help you serve in the Coffee House. Fifi said 
that you wouldn’t be able to manage it alone. 
Jenny Howard’s her name. She was brought 
up here, but some years ago she went to New 


52 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


York to study art. The poor kid hasn’t been 
very successful, so she was only too ready to 
jump at my offer. She’s arriving on Tuesday. 
That’s all right with you, isn’t it, Peggy?” 

“ Why, of course,” said Peggy. But really she 
wasn’t so pleased about it. She felt a sudden 
little stab of jealousy at the thought that Doug 
should feel so interested in another girl. She 
hated herself for it and called herself a fool. 
Who was she, anyway, that she should hope to 
monopolize a man of the world like Doug? 

“ Come and dance,” he said presently. 

Peggy sprang to her feet and as they danced 
in the softly lighted ballroom she forgot all 
about the girl from New York. She adored 
dancing and Doug was a finished dancer. Their 
steps fitted perfectly. 

“ Enjoying yourself, little Peggy?” he asked, 
softly tightening his pressure around her waist 
slightly — ever so slightly. 

“ Yes, yes,” she murmured, looking up at 
him. And then, as their eyes met, she felt a 
strange thrill creeping through her. She was 
happy and yet just a little afraid. 

The music ceased and he was leading her 
off the floor when they came face to face with 
a couple who had just entered the ballroom. 


PEGGY HAS A SURPRISE 


53 


The man was tall with sandy hair and the 
woman was beautiful in a hard, striking way. 
She wore a wonderful gown of black sequins that 
enhanced the brilliant gold of her hair. As 
she caught sight of Doug she stopped suddenly: 

“ So you’re here after all, Doug,” she said 
with a laugh that had a hard metallic ring to it. 

Doug did not answer her but Peggy noticed 
that his face had suddenly gone white and that 
his hands were clenched tightly by his sides. 


CHAPTER VI 
The Woman in Black 

There was a moment’s pause while Doug 
Wyman and the woman in the black sequin gown 
stared at each other. At first Peggy thought 
that Doug was about to say something. But 
he evidently changed his mind, for he merely 
bowed stiffly and hurried Peggy back into the 
dining room. 

“ A woman I used to know — once,” he said 
jerkily as though he thought some explanation 
was necessary. 

Peggy nodded in reply as they seated them¬ 
selves at the table. She would like to have known 
more, but she felt that it was no business of 
hers and that it would have been indelicate to 
question him. If he chose to tell her that was 
another matter, but apparently he didn’t. 

The waiter was serving chicken a la King from 
a shining silver chafing dish. As the smell crept 
into her nostrils Peggy suddenly realized that 
she was hungry and started eating with relish. 
But half-way through she noticed that Doug 
had scarcely eaten anything. He was sitting 
54 


THE WOMAN IN BLACK 55 

staring into space with a strange look on his 
face. 

“ Don’t you like the dish?” Peggy asked sud¬ 
denly. 

He started abruptly at the sound of her voice 
and then smiled. 

“ Yes, I like it,” he said. “ But I’m not 
hungry. I had a late lunch on the train.” 

After that he exerted himself to talk to her, 
telling her of the various shows he had seen in 
New York, and giving her a brief outline of the 
plots. 

“ My mother was an actress,” Peggy said 
suddenly. 

Doug Wyman looked interested 

“ That so?” he said. “ Now I can understand 
from whom you get your charm — your wonder¬ 
ful vitality. Would you like to go on the stage 
yourself?” 

Peggy thought this over for a moment. 

“ I don’t know,” she said slowly, “ I would 
if I knew that I was going to be someone really 
great — an actress who was always sure of a 
job on Broadway. But to never get out of 
the rut — to spend a lifetime trailing around 
small country towns, no! That’s what broke my 
mother.” 


56 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ She’s dead?” the man asked gently. 

The girl nodded and a wistful note crept into 
her voice as she continued: 

“ I never knew her, you know, but friends of 
hers have told me all about her and I’ve pic¬ 
tured her so often in my mind that sometimes it 
seems as though I’d really known her. . She was 
small and pretty with gay laughing ways and 
yet underneath she was sad. Life wasn’t very 
kind to her.” 

“ She wasn’t happy in her marriage?” 

Peggy hesitated and caught her lower lip 
between her teeth. Then she shook her head. 

“ No, I don’t think Father understands the 
meaning of the word ‘ love.’ He only under¬ 
stands ‘ duty.’ ” 

“ I see,” said Doug slowly, and then he added 
softly: “ And you, little Peggy, do you know 
the meaning of love?” 

Her eyes fell beneath his searching gaze and 
in the silence he stretched one hand across the 
table and covered hers as it lay small and white 
on the table cloth. 

“ I have never been really in love — if that’s 
what you mean,” she said presently. “ But of 
course I’ve thought and dreamt about it.” 

“ And the lover you’ve pictured in your 


THE WOMAN IN BLACK 


57 


dreams,” Doug insisted. “ Tell me of him.” 

Peggy smiled. 

“ I’ve never pictured any one definitely,” she 
said. “ Just some one who loves and under¬ 
stands me, who’s always known, somehow, that 
I was in the world and who’s waited and — 
kept himself for me.” 

There was a pause, and then Doug said 
abruptly, with a slightly harsh note in his voice: 

“ Let’s go — shall we?” 

Peggy both looked and felt her disappoint¬ 
ment. She had hoped that he would ask her to 
dance again. She loved dancing and she was 
sure that they had danced well together. But 
she supposed that he was tired after the train 
Journey. So she gathered her things together 
and followed him through the maze of tables 
out into the vestibule. 

“ I ordered the car at ten, so it should be here 
now,” he said. 

They found it waiting for them and after he 
had helped her into it he said, “ Excuse me a 
moment, will you? I want to go back and get 
some cigarettes.” 

She sat there in the big blue limousine and 
watched him mingle with the crowd and dis¬ 
appear through the revolving doors into the 


58 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


hotel. She felt suddenly tired and a little hurt. 
Why had he spoken to her so shortly at the end 
of the meal and why had he only asked her to 
dance with him once? 

She lay back among the cushions and closed 
her eyes. Presently she opened them again when 
she heard some one enter the car. She turned, 
expecting to find that Doug had already 
returned. But to her surprise a woman was 
leaning half into the car peering into the girl’s 
face. At first Peggy thought that some one 
had made a mistake and got into the wrong car. 
She sat waiting for the intruder to apologize and 
withdraw and when she did neither of these 
things, Peggy sat up and stared back at the 
stranger. Then, in a flash, Peggy recognized 
her. It was the same woman who had spoken 
to Doug on the ballroom floor. Even in the 
semi-darkness there was no mistaking that 
bright yellow hair, although now it was partly 
obscured by a small black turban — nor that 
clear-cut profile — coldly beautiful. 

“Are you with Mr. Wyman?” the woman 
demanded sharply. 

Completely taken aback Peggy answered, 
“ Yes.” 

“ Where do you live?” 


THE WOMAN IN BLACK 


59 


But by that time the girl had recovered 
slightly from her surprise and she replied with 
spirit. 

“ Why do you want to know?” 

“ My business,” said the intruder, and then, 
with a laugh, she added, “ I didn’t expect that 
you’d tell me, but I can find out.” 

With that she slammed the door in Peggy’s 
face and walked along the pavement. 

Completely bewildered, Peggy sat staring 
after her until she saw her disappear into a 
taxi cab. 

She told Doug about it directly he returned 
to the car, hoping that he would be able to 
give her some explanation of the woman’s 
strange conduct. But, instead, he merely sat 
silent for a moment frowning, and then, leaning 
forward, he said into the speaking tube: 

“ Drive out by Brookline, Carl. Keep on 
going until I tell you to stop.” 

The chauffeur nodded and the car slid away. 

“ I’m awfully sorry that happened, Peggy,” 
Doug said presently. “ But life seems to take 
a fiendish delight in Collecting toll at the most 
inopportune moments.” 

They rode for a while in silence and presently, 
being held up in a traffic jam, Peggy glanced idly 


60 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


through the window. A street lamp shone 
directly down onto a taxi cab pulled up beside 
them and Peggy saw pressed against the window 
glass the face of the same woman who had 
spoken to her outside the hotel. 

Evidently Doug had seen her too, for, 
abruptly, he pulled down their window curtains 
and swore softly to himself. 

Once more he picked up the speaking tube. 

“ Speed her up — Carl. We’re being fol¬ 
lowed.” 

Just then the car leapt forward with a great 
bound and soon they were through the traffic, 
racing along great wide roads. 

By now the excitement of the chase had begun 
to take hold of Peggy. Wasn’t this what she 
had asked of life? Change and adventure? If 
only Doug would take her into his confidence — 
quiet her fears — what fun it would be then! 

As though in answer to her thoughts, Doug 
said: 

“ That was some one, Peggy, whom I hoped 
that I should never see again.” 

“You — you dislike her?” 

He gave a short, bitter laugh. 

“ Dislike is a mild term,” he said. 

So that was it. He must have hated her very 


THE WOMAN IN BLACK 


61 


much, Peggy thought, judging by the tone of 
his voice. Or, perhaps, had he loved her very 
much? 

As though prompted by something she did not 
understand, Peggy said timidly: 

“ She is nothing to you, Doug?” and neither 
seemed to notice that she had used his Christian 
name for the first time. 

He hesitated momentarily and then said, 
“ Nothing,” and again, “ nothing.” 

He was staring straight ahead of him and to 
Peggy there was something vaguely terrifying in 
the immobility of his expression. In the dim 
light he seemed like some image carved out of 
stone. 

Impulsively she moved towards him and 
slipped her hand into his. 

Her action seemed to confuse him, 4or he 
turned to her suddenly and said: 

“ Why did you do that, Peggy?” 

She hesitated. In truth she didn’t quite know 
herself. She had merely obeyed the world-old 
instinct of the female to comfort the male in 
trouble. But she couldn’t explain that to him, 
so she said, “I — I like you, Doug.” 

He drew her closer to him. 

“ Do you?” he said. “ But are you sure that 


62 


PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


it’s I you like and not what I can give you, 
Peggy? Perhaps you can’t separate the two. 
Few women can.” 

Peggy flushed slightly in the darkness. Of 
course it was he she liked, but — well, who 
could blame her if she enjoyed riding ’round 
in his limousine and dining with him at the 
Copley Plaza? Until that moment it had all 
seemed a part of him in her mind. 

But he was waiting for her to reply. 

“ Why it’s you — of course, Doug,” she said. 

A curious little smile crept over his face. 

“ Prove it then,” he said. “ Kiss me, Peggy.” 


CHAPTER VII 

At the Yellow Dragon Coffee House 

Peggy drew away from him slightly. She 
tried to laugh, but somehow she couldn’t. What 
was it that was frightening her — making her 
heart thump madly? She had kissed boys before 
— in automobiles,— treated it more or less as 
a joke. Then what was there about Doug’s 
request that made a kiss take on a new 
significance? 

Noting her hesitation, he said with a smile 
that was cynical: 

“ So you’re like most women — little Peggy. 
Always bluffing.” 

“ I wasn’t,” she said indignantly. “ I meant 
it, but-” 

“ Shy?” he asked softly. “ Well, then-” 

He bent forward swiftly and, in the darkness 
she could feel his lips seeking hers. He kissed 
her — a hard, stinging kiss that left her lips 
bruised and trembling. When he released her 
she sank back limply into a corner. He seemed 
to have taken all the life out of her in that kiss. 

He was speaking to the chauffeur. “ Stop the 
63 




64 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


next vacant taxi that passes us, Carl.” Then, 
turning to Peggy, he said, “ I’m going to send 
you home alone, Peggy. I think it wiser — I 
don’t want you to be dragged into any unpleas¬ 
ant scene.” 

Presently Peggy found herself being hustled 
into a taxicab and the next moment Doug stood 
bareheaded on the road. 

“ Good-bye, little Peggy,” he said. “ I’m 
coming to see you soon.” 

Then, having given her address to the driver, 
Peggy saw Doug pass the man a ten dollar bill. 

“ Pull down the blinds, Peggy,” he ordered as 
the taxi started off. 

Peggy felt bewildered and a little unhappy. 
What did it all mean? If the woman in the 
black sequin gown was nothing to Doug, then 
why was she pursuing him? For what purpose 
had she wished to ascertain Peggy’s address? 
Her head was aching slightly. She hoped that 
Doug would come soon and explain it all to her. 
But as a matter of fact it was almost a week 
before Peggy saw Doug Wyman again. 

In the meanwhile she was very busy. The 
Yellow Dragon Coffee House opened its doors 
to the public on Monday and from then on 
Peggy was occupied every moment of the day. 


AT THE COFFEE HOUSE 


65 


It proved popular from the start — a meeting 
place for all those who belonged, or who pro¬ 
fessed to belong, to the artistic profession. Fifi 
had excelled herself in the decorations. Small 
green tables and chairs, with lilac flower bowls 
a mass of yellow blooms, and at night time yel¬ 
low candles flickering on every table, giving the 
room an eerie, mysterious note. 

Mrs. Murphy, a large Irish woman with a 
genius for cookies, presided over the kitchen, 
and Fifi and Peggy took charge of the dining 
room by turns. 

Jenny Howard arrived from New York on the 
Tuesday. She was twenty-two, with short, 
straight hair and small, brown eyes. Yet she 
was good-looking in a sort of brazen way — the 
type that married men like to play around with. 

“ Did you ever see anything like her make¬ 
up?” said Fifi to Peggy, when once they were 
alone in the kitchen, “ you could scrape it off 
with a palette knife. And just look at the way 
each one of her eye-lashes stands out separately. 
You could positively count them.” 

Peggy laughed. 

“ Where’s she going to stay?” she asked. 

“ Doug’s got a room for her right over the 
way,” said Fifi. 


66 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Peggy didn’t reply, but as she turned to 
arrange some dishes on a tray, she had ceased 
to smile. Once more she was conscious of the 
sharp stab of jealousy that she had experienced 
that night at the Copley Plaza. Why was Doug 
Wyman taking so much interest in this girl? It 
didn’t seem to Peggy that she could be his sort, 

and yet- Was it true what he had said, 

that pity for her alone had prompted him to 
offer her the position? Then, too, what part 
had the fair woman in black played in his life — 
perplexing questions that seemed to revolve 
ceaselessly in Peggy’s brain. She wished that 
she didn’t like him so much, and yet, did she 
really like him? Wasn’t it rather that he exer¬ 
cised some subtle fascination over her? 

Late one evening, when the air in the Coffee 
House was thick with tobacco smoke, Jenny 
came over to Peggy and whispered, “ Some of 
the boys want us to go into a studio party. They 
say it isn’t far from here. Come on, Peggy, I’m 
just crazy for a wild night.” 

Peggy considered. She had never been on a 
studio party, and the idea appealed to her. 

“ All right,” she said. “ But of course we’ll 
have to wait until every one clears out of here.” 

Jenny grimaced. 



AT THE COFFEE HOUSE 


67 


“ Won’t you be a sport and let me go now, 
Peggy?” she asked. “ One of the boys, Harry 
Glin, will wait for you.” 

Peggy consented, although the room was 
crowded and it would mean that she would have 
to do twice her share of the work. 

Jenny took her over and introduced her to 
Harry Glin. He was good-looking in a swarthy 
way. 

“ Hulloh, Peg o’ My Heart,” he greeted her. 

Peggy felt that he was being fresh and it 
annoyed her. 

“ My name’s Miss Mason to you,” she said, 
pertly. 

There was a chorus of laughter at the table. 

“ That’s once your fatal charm has failed to 
work, Harry,” remarked one of the girls. 

“ You just wait,” said Glin, winking broadly, 
“ the night’s young yet, and I lose interest in 
’em if they begin by being mushy.” 

Peggy moved away to attend to a customer, 
but she felt secretly annoyed that she had ever 
consented to go on the party. Purposely she 
kept away from Glin until every one had gone. 
Then, feeling that she could ignore him no 
longer, she said: 

“ Make yourself useful and lock all the 


68 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


windows while I go upstairs and get ready.” 

She had just changed into a blue crepe-de¬ 
chine frock and was combing her hair when she 
heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. 

Briskly she walked over and slammed the 
door. 

“ Oh, don’t shut a fellow out in the cold,” he 
protested loudly. “ Jenny told me that you 
were an awful good little sport.” 

“ Then Jenny’s mistaken,” said Peggy 
sharply. “ Either go downstairs and wait or 
else you’ll have to go to the party without me.” 

She heard him grumbling to himself as he 
descended the creeking stairs, and later, when 
Peggy came down he was still sulking. The 
studio was only two streets away, and they 
walked round practically in silence. It was 
located on the top floor of a building, and from 
some way up the street they could hear shouts 
and laughter drifting down through the open 
window. 

“ Lucky devils. They’re probably all tight 
by now,” said Glin. 

The studio was a long, narrow room, faintly 
lit by flickering orange candles. All around the 
walls were black-covered divans, with a host of 
vivid cushions piled up against the wall. Men 


AT THE COFFEE HOUSE 


69 


and girls lay back upon them smoking and chat¬ 
ting, while a few couples danced to a grama- 
phone which ground out “ The Dancing Honey¬ 
moon.” Quite a number were collected around 
a huge punch bowl, drinking a mixture of 
straight alcohol, orange and lemon juice. 

Directly Peggy appeared, Jenny dashed over 
and seized her by the hand. 

“ Listen, everybody,” she cried. “ This is 
Peggy. She’s going to be one of the bunch from 
now on.” 

There was a chorus of shouts and many 
glasses were raised with the toast, “ Here’s to 
you, Peggy.” 

Peggy felt rather confused and bewildered. 
She had never been to a party anything like this 
before. Indeed, she wasn’t quite sure that she 
liked it. Some one pushed a glass of punch into 
her hand and, feeling thirsty, she drained it. 
They gave her another. Soon hot tongues of fire 
seemed to be leaping through her blood. She 
wanted to laugh and dance — do something 
silly. Like the party? Of course she did! This 
was the life. 

“ That punch has got some kick in it, I’ll tell 
the world,” she heard Jenny say. 

Now Peggy was in a man’s arms — dancing. 


70 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ You’re a sweet little kid,” he murmured. 
“ Who are you?” 

“ I’m Peggy,” she replied. 

“ Peggy what?” 

“ Peggy of Beacon Hill,” she laughed back at 
him. 

“ Very well then, Miss Peggy of Beacon Hill, 
and when may I call on you?” he said. 

Soon Glin cut in on them. 

She didn’t like dancing with him very much. 
He held her uncomfortably close, and once he 
bent forward suddenly and kissed her on the 
throat. 

“Come and sit on the couch,” he coaxed, when 
the record was finished. 

Peggy followed him reluctantly. She could 
see that he had been drinking heavily and she 
was afraid that he might turn nasty if she 
refused. 

She sank onto the couch and he threw himself 
down by her side. 

They were partly hidden from the rest of the 
party by blue hanging curtains. 

“ Cigarette?” he suggested, and when she 
refused he slipped an arm around her waist. 

She tried to draw away from him. 

“Whas th’ matter with you?” he demanded 


AT THE COFFEE HOUSE 


71 


thickly. “ Why aren’t you a good lil’ sport like 
Jenny?” 

“ Is Jenny a good little sport?” asked Peggy 
to gain time. 

“ Best liP sport in the world,” he mumbled. 
“ Game for anything — Jenny is. Now if you 
were like her-” 

But just at that moment the door opened and 
a man stood on the threshold. At first Peggy 
couldn’t see him distinctly, but she did see Jenny 
rush over to him with a glad shout and fling her 
arms around his neck. 

“ Why this is a surprise,” she heard Jenny cry 
and then with a sudden sickening feeling Peggy 
saw that the man was Doug Wyman. 



CHAPTER VIII 
Doug Explains 

Peggy sat very still with a strange numb feel¬ 
ing creeping over her. Doug Wyman had not 
been near her for a week and ncpv he was stand¬ 
ing there in full view of all the guests, with 
Jenny Howard’s arms around him. 

The tableau lasted only a moment and then 
Peggy saw him draw himself out of Jenny’s em¬ 
brace and walk round shaking hands with those 
of the crowd he knew. What did it mean? 
Were Doug Wyman and Jenny Howard in love 
with one another? Was that the reason for his 
having brought her up from New York to serve 
in the Coffee House? It seemed probable, and 
yet somehow Peggy could not bring herself to 
accept that explanation. Doug had always 
seemed to her so fastidious in his taste for 
women and Jenny was — well- 

Suddenly Peggy felt that she wanted to find 
out more about Jenny, so turning to Glin, she 
said, with a forced smile: 

“ As you were saying, if I were more like 
Jenny, well, what then?” 

72 



DOUG EXPLAINS 


73 


“ Why, kid,” he said thickly, “ we’d have a 
gay time. Little week-end parties — jus’ you 
an’ me alone together — I’ve a nice little Buick 
roadster-” 

He went rambling on, but Peggy didn’t listen 
after that. She had found out all she wanted 
to know. So Jenny was that sort of a girl — 
well she wasn’t altogether surprised — except 
that Doug Wyman should fancy her. Then, 
with a sudden flash of anger, she remembered 
that she had let Doug kiss her that night in his 
car. She wondered if since then he had been 
thinking that she, too, was like Jenny — cheap 
— willing to pay any price for a good time. The 
thought made her furious — she felt somehow 
that he had humiliated her. 

Glin bent forward suddenly and kissed her 
shoulder. Peggy started and then gave a short 
laugh. What did it matter anyway. The effect 
of the drink was beginning to wear off and she 
was feeling depressed. 

“ Bring me another drink,” she said. More 
than willing, Glin sprang to his feet and was 
soon lost among the crowd swarming around the 
punch bowl. 

“ Why did you let him kiss you, Peggy?” 

Peggy looked up suddenly to see Doug Wy- 



74 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


man standing looking down at her with an 
unfathomable expression in his eyes. 

“ I didn’t know that you knew I was here,” 
she told him. 

“ Oh, yes I did. I saw you the moment that 
I entered the room. But you seemed so occupied 
with your tete-a-tete that I hesitated to inter¬ 
rupt. I can’t say, Peggy, that I congratulate 
you on your choice of a partner.” His tone was 
faintly mocking and there was an ironical twist 
to his lips. 

She flushed furiously. How dared he taunt 
her with her behavior after what she had just 
seen. 

“ It’s kind of you to be interested in my 
affairs, Mr. Wyman,” she said stiffly, “ espe¬ 
cially since you yourself seem so occupied else¬ 
where tonight.” 

A half smile flickered across his face. 

“ So that’s it, Peggy,” he said. “ Jenny’s little 
stage trick has upset you?” 

Peggy averted her gaze. 

“ I don’t know what you mean,” she said. 

“ Yes, you do,” he answered her, and there 
was a hint of amusement in his voice. “ You 
are annoyed because you saw Jenny throw her 
arms around me. You have begun to imagine 


DOUG EXPLAINS 


75 


that she and I are — well, just a little more than 
friends — isn’t that so?” 

That had been just what Peggy had been 
thinking, but she was reluctant to admit it. She 
wondered how he had been able to read her 
thoughts so accurately. 

Then, as she didn’t reply, he continued in a 
gentler tone: 

“ Silly child. Don’t you know that it’s as 
natural for Jenny to embrace a man as to shake 
hands with him? And if there was anything 
more between us than friendship, do you think 
that she’d be lying there in another man’s arms 
under my very nose?” 

Peggy followed his glance across the room and 
saw Jenny being kissed profusely by a young 
man with sleek, fair hair. Somehow, Peggy felt 
embarrassed; she knew that Jenny had only met 
the fellow for the first time that evening. 

“ Are you satisfied now?” asked Doug as he 
sat down beside her. “ Jenny and I have known 
each other for years. She looks upon me as a 
sort of haven of advice and financial aid when¬ 
ever she gets into trouble.” 

Still Peggy remained silent. She was begin¬ 
ning to feel rather foolish for the suspicions she 
had entertained. 


76 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ Come on, little Peggy, smile,” he said. 
“ What’s troubling you now?” 

“ Last Saturday you told me that you’d be 
’round at the Coffee House in a day or so — you 
never came,” she said. 

He was serious immediately. 

“ I know, Peggy,” he replied, “ and I don’t 
suppose you’d believe me if I told you that it 
was for your own sake that I kept away?” 

Just then Glin came across the room towards 
them with the glass of punch in his hands, and 
as he walked he swayed slightly. 

“ Cool cheek,” he mumbled. “ Leave m’ girl 
for moment, ’nother fellow takes m’ place. 
Here, now,” he added, addressing Doug, “ Peg’s 
in’ girl tonight — ain’t you, Peg?” 

Doug answered for her. 

“ Miss Mason’s tired. I’m going to take her 
home,” and before Peggy quite knew what was 
happening, Doug had grasped her by the arm 
and was leading her across the studio towards 
the door. 

Half-w^ay down the stairs they came upon a 
girl in a pale green evening frock, sobbing noisily. 

Peggy drew back, a little awed- 

“ What’s the matter with her?” she whispered 
to Doug. 



DOUG EXPLAINS 


77 


“ She’s probably drunk too much and is feel¬ 
ing the effects of it,” he returned. “ Leave her 
alone. You can’t do any good by interfering.” 

But Peggy insisted on sitting down and try¬ 
ing to find out what the matter was. Finally 
she gleaned that the girl’s fellow had been 
flirting elsewhere that evening, but as Peggy felt 
that she could do nothing to help, and as Doug 
was getting impatient, she was soon forced 
reluctantly to leave her. 

As they stepped out into the street the cool 
night air felt wonderful to Peggy after the stale 
smoke-heavy atmosphere of the studio. She 
threw back her head and drunk it deep into her 
lungs. 

“ I’m sorry that this has been your first 
experience of a party on the Hill,” said Doug, as 
he helped her into his Stutz roadster. “ I’m 
afraid that it was rather sordid. They’re not all 
like that. Fifi’s shows are wonderful.” 

As they shot away into the darkness, Peggy 
lay back and let the fresh breeze strike against 
her face. She felt strangely happy — happier 
than she had been for some time. 

“ Where are we going?” she asked presently, 
noticing that they had left Beacon Hill behind 
them. 


78 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ I’m taking you for a little spin,” he said, 
“ out by Revere Beach.” 

“ But the time?” gasped Peggy. “ It must be 
fearfully late. I didn’t leave the Coffee House 
until after twelve.” * 

“ It’s about four,” he said. “ But you know, 
Peggy, even if I took you home now, you 
wouldn’t be able to sleep for hours.” 

Peggy felt the wisdom of this; besides she 
liked rushing past the dark, sleeping houses and 
the trees that looked so gaunt and mysterious in 
the white moonlight. 

They talked intermittently. She found her¬ 
self telling him funny little incidents of her 
childhood. It seemed strange to her that a man 
like Doug Wyman should seem so interested. 
Then she started describing to him her life in 
North Cambridge, telling him of her hatred of 
the monotony and dullness of it all, and soon 
she was speaking to him about Joe. 

“ I’m glad you’re through with him,” said 
Doug presently, after she had finished, “ and not 
altogether from selfish reasons either. You’d 
never have been happy married to him. He’d 
have tried to make you settle down. Nothing’s 
more fatal to married happiness than that. If 
only young couples would look upon the wed- 


DOUG EXPLAINS 


79 


ding service as more the starting-out-point of a 

great adventure than as the end- No, Joe 

wasn’t the man for you, little Peggy. He’d have 
chained you down to his little home with a brood 
of children and then tried to force blinkers on 
you so that you should see no other man but him. 
Peggy,” he continued softly, looking down at 
her brown, curly head, “ when you marry it 
should be a man of experience — one who has 
served his apprenticeship as to how to treat 
women, a man with money enough to take you 
wandering with him all over the globe, show 
you — Paris — Venice — Florence-” 

His hand dropped down from the steering 
wheel, closed over hers, clasping it tightly for a 
minute. 

Peggy felt her heart throbbing wildly. What 
did he mean? It couldn’t be that he — but 
that was impossible she told herself quickly. 

They were out by Marblehead now, driving 
along the seashore where giant waves dashed 
against the rocks, scattering spray like specks 
of silver confetti into the air. 

Doug didn’t speak again until faint streaks 
of light — heralds of the dawn — came creep¬ 
ing from the east. 

“ Look — the dawn, Peggy,” he whispered. 




80 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Then presently, as the darkness waned before 
the first rosy flush of morning, he continued: 
“ You remind me of the dawn, little Peggy. 
There’s something so fresh and frank about you. 
Other women belong to the night — to soft 
lights and subtle perfumes — but the dawn’s 
yours, Peggy.” 

Peggy laughed and there was a glad throb in 
her laughter. 

“ It’s wonderful,” she said. “ I’ve never seen 
the dawn break like this before.” 

“ No? And now to my mind there’s only one 
thing lacking to cap a perfect night. Breakfast 
together. I’m sure you must be starving.” 

Peggy admitted that she was hungry. 

“ Then we’ll go back to my apartment,” he 
said, “ and you shall cook breakfast for both 
of us.” 


CHAPTER IX 

Breakfast for Two 

Immediately Peggy was up in arms. 

“ I couldn’t do that,” she said quickly. 

He looked at her with a curious smile. 

“ Why not?” he asked. 

“ But — but there wouldn’t be any one in 
your apartment except you and me — would 
there?” she stammered, finding it difficult to say 
what was in her mind. 

“ Of course not,” he said bluntly. 

“ Then don’t you see that I can’t?” Her tone 
was appealing. 

Doug Wyman suddenly laughed. 

“ What a mixture of contradictions you are, 
Peggy,” he said. “ Not long ago you were 
telling me how. you hated conventions, how glad 
you were to be free at last to lead your own 
life. And now, directly I ask you to do a simple 
thing, like coming back to my apartment and 
cooking breakfast for both of us — you shriek 
in alarm — hug your conventions to you and 
immediately fly back to the protection of Mother 
Grundy’s apron strings. Don’t you see that 
81 


82 


PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


you’re being a little inconsistent, to say the 
least of it?” 

Peggy hesitated. She had to ^dmit to herself 
that there was some truth in what Doug had 
just said. Somehow he had a way of always 
making her feel in the wrong when they argued. 

She tried to compromise. 

“ Couldn’t we have breakfast together else¬ 
where?” she suggested. 

His lips shut in a straight line. 

“ That means you don’t trust me,” he said 
and, turning away from her, he gave his atten¬ 
tion wholly to the steering wheel. 

Peggy was very distressed. 

“ Oh, I do,” she assured him. “ Only-” 

“ If you did you’d think nothing of coming 
back to my apartment with me,” he said. 

Peggy had no argument to put up against this 
and, so in the end, she consented. 

A peculiar gleam of satisfaction shone momen¬ 
tarily in Doug Wyman’s eyes, but all he said 
was: 

“ That’s fine, Peggy. I knew you’d be sen¬ 
sible.” 

In the cold gray light of morning they drove 
up before the bachelor apartment house at the 
foot of Beacon Hill where Doug Wyman lived. 



BREAKFAST FOR TWO 


83 


He helped her out of the car and took her up 
in the lift. 

“ I daresay you’re cold/’ he said. “ I’ll get 
a fire started.” 

As he busied himself with the logs and paper, 
Peggy wandered around the apartment. The 
furnishings were singularly masculine, and yet 
it was not lacking in artistic charm. She 
thought the wall paper in the hall peculiar — 
a dull gold with an uneven surface and she 
commented on it to Doug. 

“ The paper came out of tea boxes,” he said. 
“ Don’t you see that it’s all in squares? Rather 
attractive — don’t you think so?” 

Peggy admitted that it was and as she came 
into the sitting room she was greatly taken 
by the various curios that lay on the mantel 
shelf and hung around the walls. 

“ Just a few things that I picked up on my 
travels,” he said. “ Do you see that hat by the 
fireplace, that looks like a lampshade? It came 
from Mongolia.” 

He chatted on in this vein while he lit the fire, 
and soon Peggy felt completely at her ease and 
annoyed with herself for — what seemed to her 
now — her foolish misgivings in the first place. 

Presently she went into his bedroom to 


84 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


smooth her hair. In her search for a comb she 
chanced to open one of his drawers and found 
herself staring at the photograph of a woman. 
Prompted by curiosity she picked it up and 
then quickly came recognition. It was a picture 
of the woman who had spoken to Doug in the 
ballroom of the Copley Plaza — the same 
woman who had accosted her later in his 
limousine. 

She put it back quickly and, shutting the 
drawer, she leant up against it — vaguely dis¬ 
turbed. 

Doug had said that the woman was nothing to 
him — then why had he her photograph in his 
drawer? Of course, as they had been friends 
once, it was possible that she had given it to 
him then and he had left it lying there ever 
since. 

Peggy resolved to accept this explanation and 
think no more about it, so she hastened into 
the tiny white kitchenette and started getting 
breakfast ready. She hummed a gay little 
tune as she prepared eggs and bacon, toast and 
coffee and, meanwhile, Doug laid a table by the 
fire. 

“ Quite a little domestic scene, eh?” he re¬ 
marked when they once were seated at the table. 


BREAKFAST FOR TWO 


85 


“ We might almost be married lovers returned 
from a honeymoon.” 

Peggy felt oddly embarrassed at his remark, 
but she managed to answer jestingly: 

“ But then, in all probability, we’d be nagging 
each other and you’d be telling me that the toast 
was burnt and that the eggs had been fixed 
too long.” 

“ True, Oh Cynic,” he said blithely. “ Some¬ 
how, Peggy, I imagine that you and I think 
alike on certain matters.” 

“ Tired?” he asked presently. 

Peggy shook her head. 

“ By rights you should be looking faded and 
worn after your night out,” he said. “ Instead, 
you’re looking as fresh-” 

“ Yes?” 

“ I was going to say as fresh as fresh paint,” 
he smiled, “ only that wouldn’t apply to you. It 
would suit Jenny better.” 

They both laughed at that and presently, 
when he had finished, he came round and stood 
by her side. 

Faint streaks of sunlight came creeping in 
through the windows, framing Peggy’s face and 
making red copper lights gleam in her hair. 

“ Peggy, you little witch,” he murmured. 



86 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ I’d like to keep you here forever. I’d like to 
bind you to that chair with a long ray of sun¬ 
light-” he paused and, picking up her hand, 

he raised the palm to his lips — kissing it gently. 
Peggy felt her heart thumping queerly — she 
wondered if she should draw her hand away — 
hesitated — was conscious of a strange feeling of 
contentment. Then, abruptly, he moved away 
from her. 

“ Instead, I’m going to be self-sacrificing and 
take you home.” 

He helped her into her hat and coat, but 
even after they had left his apartment it was 
some little while before Peggy returned to the 
Coffee House. Reluctant to leave her he drove 
her the long way round, stopping on the way to 
have his car refilled with gasoline. 

Seven o’clock was just striking as Peggy 
climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She felt 
tired now; eager to rest. But as she reached the 
threshold she paused abruptly, for there, lying 
fully dressed on the bed, smoking a cigarette, 
was Jenny Howard. 

“ Hullo,” said the intruder, her tone faintly 
mocking, “ been spending the night with your 
sweetie?” 

Peggy flushed angrily. 



BREAKFAST FOR TWO 


87 


“ What do you mean? 5 ’ she asked. 

“ Just what I said/ 5 remarked the other imper¬ 
turbably. “ I noticed that you left the party 
early and it’s obvious that you haven’t been here 
since. Still there’s no need to get rattled. 
Don’t think that 1 blame you.” 

“ I’ve been for an automobile ride,” Peggy 
said coolly. “ We stopped — somewhere — for 
breakfast.” 

“ That so?” returned Jenny, her voice still 
incredulous, as a curious smile flickered around 
her lips. Then, after a pause, “ It’s a pity you 
left the party so soon, we had a grand time. It’s 
only just broken up.” She relit another ciga¬ 
rette from the butt of the last and then con¬ 
tinued, “ Hope you don’t mind my having paid 
you the surprise visit. Fact of the matter is, I 
forgot my own latch key and I didn’t think I’d 
wake up the old woman where I lodge and put 
her wise to the fact that I’ve made a night of 
it. Guess there’s room for us both on this bed.” 

Peggy didn’t reply immediately but she 
gathered together her soap and bath towels. 

“ You can have the bed to yourself,” she said. 
“ I’m going to take a bath.” 

“ Please yourself,” returned Jenny coolly, 
“ I’ll be going pretty soon.” 


88 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


As she made her way to the bathroom, Peggy 
wished that she could like Jenny, but, somehow, 
she couldn’t even bring herself to feel friendly 
towards her. There was something about her 
that revolted Peggy in spite of herself and, then 
she felt that she could never forget Harry Glin’s 
drunken words, “ Best liP sport in the world. 
Game for anything — Jenny is.” 

That sort of girl. Peggy had never met one 
before — and once again she wondered why 
Doug Wyman had brought Jenny to the Yellow 
Dragon Coffee House. 

Presently, when she returned to her room, 
Jenny had gone. 

At noon Peggy was awakened by Fifi Gordon. 

“ You old sleepy head,” said Fifi shaking the 
girl gently by the shoulders. “ What’s the 
matter with you this morning?” 

Peggy reluctantly came back from the world 
of dreams into that of reality; it seemed to her 
that she had been asleep only a few minutes. 

Stretching herself, she told Fifi of the party 
the night before and of the automobile ride with 
Doug Wyman. As she talked, Fifi moved rest¬ 
lessly about the room with her peculiar swaying 
motion, stopping by the dressing table to fidget 
with the toilet accessories. 


BREAKFAST FOR TWO 


89 


With her back to Peggy she said, “ You and 
Doug seem to hit it off quite well, Peggy.” 

“ He's been awfully kind to me,” returned 
Peggy warmly. 

“ Yes-” said Fifi. “ Doug can be a good 

friend — if he chooses. You like him, Peggy — 
a lot?” 

The girl hesitated and then she nodded slowly. 

“ Yes, I like him, Fifi. He's so much more 
interesting than any man I've ever known.” 

Fifi was silent a moment as though she was 
debating something in her mind. Once she 
appeared about to speak and then she checked 
herself abruptly. 

“ Well, don't take him too seriously,” was 
what she finally said. 

Later, when Peggy came down into the dining 
room she was surprised to see her brother Jack 
sitting at one of the little round tables. It was 
his first appearance at the Coffee House and 
she was unreservedly glad to see him. 

“ Oh, hello, Peg,” he said. “ Nice little place 
you’ve got here. I’ve been meaning to blow in 
here for some time.” Then, lowering his voice, 
he added, “ Can’t you sit down for a moment? 
I've a message for you from Joe.” 



CHAPTER X 


Jenny Shows Her Hand 

“ I’m afraid that it won’t interest me,” said 
Peggy slowly. But she sat down beside him, 
nevertheless. 

“ Oh, come on, Peggy,” said her brother, 
sharply. “J oe ’ s a good sort at heart. As a matter 
of fact I think you treated him rather shabbily. 
He’s awfully gone on you. He wants to know 
if you’ll take up with him again.” 

Peggy was firm on that point. 

“ When I broke with him,” she said, “ I 
meant him to understand that it was definite. 
What made him think that I might change my 
mind?” 

Jack leaned over the table towards her, “ Joe’s 
father’s struck rich these last few weeks,” he 
said. “ They’ve found an oil well on his land. 
It looks as though he might make a small for¬ 
tune out of it. Joe ought to be a good catch 
now. He’s planning on buying a Buick already.” 

Peggy looked at him for a moment before 
replying. 


90 


JENNY SHOWS HER HAND 91 


“ I’m glad for his sake/’ she said presently. 
“ But how does it affect me?” 

“ Be sensible, Peggy/’ said Jack. “ I know 
that money means a good deal to a girl, buys 
her frocks and servants and all the things that 
women set store on. And I can’t say that I 
blame her. Marriage to a woman is a career on 
a business basis. It’s only natural that she 
should want to feather her nest as comfortably 
as possible. Why don’t you tell Joe that he can 
come round and see you some evening?” 

Peggy shook her head. 

“ It would look as though I were only making 
it up with him because of the money,” she said. 
“ Besides, I’m happy as things are — very 
happy.” 

She was silent for a minute, thinking of Joe. 
Tall and good-looking, he was a man any girl 
might fancy. He wasn’t exacting, either — easy¬ 
going — always let her have her own way. She 
had been fond of him once — she wondered why 
she no longer cared. And then, unwittingly 
almost, her thoughts turned to Doug Wyman; 
Doug with his quiet cynicism, his polished man¬ 
ners and his way of looking at her as though he 
knew all the thoughts that were in her mind. 
Doug had said that Joe was not the man for her 


92 


PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


— he had said-. A sudden color flooded 

her cheeks. 

“ It’s no use, Jack,” she said. “ I’ve out¬ 
grown Joe just as I outgrew the funny little 
redhaired, freckled boy I used to love when I 
went to Sunday School. You can’t rake up dead 
ashes.” 

Jack Mason shrugged. 

“ Well, it’s up to you, Sis,” he said. “ If 
you’d rather work for your living I suppose 
you’re at liberty to do so.” 

Shortly afterwards Peggy excused herself and 
went to help Fifi dish up in the kitchen. In 
the passage she almost collided with Jenny 
Howard. 

“ Who’s the man you were talking to just 
now?” asked Jenny. “ Snappy-looking fellow.” 

“ That’s my brother,” said Peggy shortly, and 
went on into the kitchen. 

She knew that Jenny had been angling for an 
introduction, but she wasn’t going to give it to 
her. Somehow she didn’t want Jack and Jenny 
Howard to become acquainted. 

But later, when Peggy returned to the dining 
room they were sitting at the same table, talking 
together like old friends. 

“ I introduced myself,” laughed Jenny, as 



JENNY SHOWS HER HAND 93 


Peggy came over to them. “ Seeing as how he 
was your brother-” 

Peggy murmured something and went on with 
her serving. It was the luncheon hour and she 
was very busy, so it was some time before she 
had a chance to speak to Jack again. This time 
she found him alone. 

“ Miss Howard’s gone across the road to get 
on her hat and coat,” he said. “ She’s coming 
to the movies with me.” 

Momentarily Peggy’s face betrayed her. 

“What’s the matter, Sis?” asked Jack quickly. 
“ She seemed to me an awfully nice kid.” 

“ Oh, yes,” returned Peggy. She knew by 
experience that to run down a girl to the man 
who is interested in her only serves to make 
him keener. “ I sort of fancied that you’d come 
here to talk to me today.” 

“ I told you what I came to say,” he replied. 
“ Besides, Sis, I’m planning to come in often, 
now.” 

“ I’m generally very busy-” Peggy began. 

“ Well, I guess I can find some one to enter¬ 
tain me even if you are rushed,” he said with a 
laugh. 

Peggy was wise enough to let the matter rest 
there but, nevertheless, she was vaguely worried 




94 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


all afternoon. She hoped Jack would discover 
that after all Jenny didn’t interest him but, 
on the contrary, he came back quite madly 
infatuated with the girl. 

The next week saw him constantly at the 
Coffee House and Peggy’s fear turned slowly to 
alarm. She wondered if she should tell Jack 
what she knew about Jenny, but something made 
her shrink from doing this. It seemed to her 
that it would be a mean trick, a stab in the 
dark, so to speak, and she felt that she would 
rather attack Jenny about it openly. 

Meanwhile, Jenny was quick to notice how 
strongly Peggy disapproved of the friendship 
which had sprung up between her and Peggy’s 
brother. She guessed that sooner or later Peggy 
would do something to interfere, and so, cleverly, 
she decided that she herself would be the first 
to strike. 

She was having supper with Jack one evening 
at one of the little green tables at the Coffee 
House, when she said casually: “ I’ve got a sort 
of an idea, Jack, that your sister doesn’t like me.” 

Jack looked up in the act of lighting a ciga¬ 
rette. 

“ Nonsense,” he said sharply. “ What makes 
you think that, Jenny?” 


JENNY SHOWS HER HAND 95 


Jenny rested her elbows on the table and 
stared out of the window for a moment without 
speaking. 

“ Well,” she said presently, “ she’s been awful 
mean to me lately — ever since you and I became 
friendly, as a matter of fact. She seems to resent 
it somehow. And since she and Mrs. Gordon 
are so thick, it means that I get left out in the 
cold.” 

Cleverly she had made Jack feel that his was 
the responsibility; she had deliberately played 
on his sense of chivalry. 

“ You poor kid,” he said, as his hand caught 
hers under the table and held it. “ So it’s be¬ 
cause of me that they’re mean to you?” 

Jenny nodded and then she said quickly, 
“ But I don’t want you to feel badly about it, 
Jack. ’Cause it isn’t your fault really. Only —” 

She sighed, and turned her head away. 

“ Only — what?” he prompted. 

“ Only I do wish they’d be decent to me. It 
makes me feel sort of miserable.” The sob in 
her voice was extremely well done and it took 
Jack in completely. 

“ You poor kid,” he said again. “ I think it 
rotten of them. I’ll give Peggy a good piece of 
my mind.” 


96 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ Oh, please don’t,” said Jenny tearfully. “ I 
don’t suppose she means to be unkind.' You see, 
I don’t think she realizes that, even though I’ve 
led an unconventional life, I’m just the same 
as she is, really-” 

She broke off abruptly and, after a moment’s 
hesitation, she started to talk of other things. 
But she had gained her point. Jack was already 
prejudiced in her favor. 

A day or so passed before Jack had an oppor¬ 
tunity of attacking Peggy on the subject. 

He found her one afternoon in the dining 
room, arranging a bowl of mauve and yellow 
orchids. 

“ Look here, Peggy,” he said bluntly, “ I 
want you to stop being mean to Jenny.” 

Peggy looked up and met his eyes. 

“ Has she been complaining to you?” she 
asked slowly. 

Jack fidgeted with his pipe. 

“ Well — not exactly,” he began. Then, in 
a sudden burst, he added, “ Why don’t you like 
her, Peggy?” 

Peggy hesitated. “ Perhaps she’s not the type 
of girl I care for,” she said. 

But her answer seemed only to enrage Jack 
further. “ I know why you don’t like her,” he 



JENNY SHOWS HER HAND 97 


stormed. “ It’s because you’re too darned 
petty. You condemn her because you can’t 
understand her. You can’t appreciate her fine 
qualities-” 

“ I suppose you understand her?” Peggy 
couldn’t resist inquiring, with a gleam of mis¬ 
chief in her eyes. 

“ Yes, I do,” said Jack. “ And I’ll tell you 
one thing, Sis, if you’re not decent to her in 
the future, you can cut me off your visiting list.” 

Peggy spoke to Fifi Gordon about it later that 
afternoon. 

“ I shouldn’t worry about it,” Fifi tried to 
console her. “ Most young men sow some wild 
oats sooner or later.” 

“ I know,” said Peggy. “ But Jack isn’t the 
type that sows wild oats. He’s more likely to 
marry her.” 

Fifi was thoughtful. 

“ In that case I’d have it out with Jenny,” 
she said. 

Peggy determined to act on her advice, so that 
evening, after she was through at the Coffee 
House, she went across the road to the house 
where Jenny roomed. 

She found Jenny was lying on the bed in a 
scarlet wrapper, reading a magazine. 



98 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ This is mighty sweet of you, Peggy, to have 
come all the way to see me,” she said, with a 
touch of sarcasm. 

Peggy stood by the doorway. 

“ I came to speak to you about Jack,” she 
said, coming directly to the point. 

“ To offer me your congratulations?” asked 
Jenny, in an insolent voice. “ Well you’re a 
trifle previous, old dear, that’s all.” 

Peggy looked at her squarely, “ I’ve come to 
ask you to leave him alone,” she said. 

There was a short pause. 

“ And why should I do that?” 

“ Because, if you don’t,” returned Peggy 
slowly, “ I shall feel obliged to tell him certain 
things I know about you — your conduct in the 
past.” 

Jenny gave a short laugh that had an unpleas¬ 
ant ring to it. 

“ Two can play at that game,” she replied. 
“ If you do that, I shall feel obliged to tell the 
world that I saw you leave Doug Wyman’s 
apartment at seven o’clock one morning.” 


CHAPTER XI 
Masks Off 

For the moment, Peggy was completely taken 
back, and Jenny was quick to take advantage 
of it. 

“ You’re a fine one to criticize me,” she said, 
“ when I saw you myself, come out of Doug 
Wyman’s apartment at seven o’clock the morn¬ 
ing after the party.” 

“ I told you that we had been motoring,” said 
Peggy, with an effort to speak calmly. “ We 
went into Mr. Wyman’s apartment to have 
breakfast.” 

Jenny laughed and, tossing - aside her maga¬ 
zine, she reached for a cigarette. 

“ And who do you think’s going to believe 
that story?” 

“ But it’s true,” Peggy insisted. 

“ Maybe it is and maybe not,” said Jenny. 
“ But many a man’s been hung for sticking to 
the truth. No one would believe your story. 
There’s so much Christian charity in the world 
that it invariably jumps to the worst con¬ 
clusions.” 


99 


100 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ What are you going to do about it?” Peggy 
asked presently. 

“ Nothing, unless you force my hand. If 
you mind your own business, I’ll mind mine.” 

“ I’d rather have that story get round than 
have my brother’s life ruined.” 

“ That so?” said Jenny, as she crossed two 
slim, stockinged legs in the air. Then, with a 
sudden change of tactics, she said: 

“ Look here, Peggy. Just because there have 
been affairs in my life does that mean that I’m 
never going to get a chance to be decent?” 
And, as Peggy didn’t reply, she continued with 
a bitter laugh: “You’re like most of the so- 
called good people, Peggy. You’re always 
preaching about giving the sinner a second 
chance and yet, when it lies within your power 
to do it, you deliberately throw him back into 
the mire again.” 

There was a short pause, during which Peggy 
crossed over to the window. She had to admit 
the truth of what Jenny had just said and yet, 
deep within her something seemed to be crying, 
“ Another chance — yes — but not my brother. 
Oh, God, not my own brother.” 

“ I don’t think that I’d mind so much if 
there’d been only one big affair in your life, 


MASKS OFF 


101 


Jenny,” she said presently, “ but a host of petty 
passions-” her voice trailed away in disgust. 

Jenny raised herself on her elbow. 

“ Listen, Peggy,” she said. “ Didn't it ever 
occur to you that it was the one great love that 
started me on what novelists like to call — the 
downward path? When I was seventeen I fell 
in love madly — passionately — I was always a 
hot-blooded youngster and I thought he was 
going to do the right thing by me, honest I did. 
I know that I was a fool now, but I loved him 
too well to bargain myself for a wedding ring. 
I lost my head and he took advantage of it. 
Well — I guess you’ve seen the situation too 
often in the movies not to know what happened 
then. He grew tired of me and I just sort of 
drifted after that. I didn’t seem to care, and I 
was done for, anyhow. Second-hand goods. The 
nice men kept away and the rotters clustered 
round like vultures over a dead body, hoping 
they would come in for some of the pickings.” 
She finished on a harsh note that was half a 
laugh, half a sob. 

“ Oh, what the hell does it matter anyhow,” 
she said, as she lit another cigarette. But, to 
her surprise, Peggy saw that the girl was crying. 

Impulsively Peggy moved over to her side. 



102 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ I’m ever so sorry, Jenny,” she began. 

But the other cut in on her: “ I don’t want 
your sympathy. And you needn’t be afraid that 
I’ll hurt your baby brother. I won’t get engaged 
to him, either, if that’s what you’re scared of. 
But I sort of like going round with him — he 
treats me the same as if I had a home and a 
family at the back of me.” 

The next day was Saturday; Peggy was off 
duty and as she was wondering what she would 
do with herself she saw Doug Wyman come into 
the dining room of the Coffee House. He 
stopped momentarily at the door to chat to Fifi 
and then, as she watched him wind his way 
through the maze of tables towards her, Peggy 
suddenly felt strangely self-conscious. 

“ Well, little Peggy,” he said, “ and what do 
you say to an afternoon in the country?” 

“ Why, I should love it,” said Peggy. “ I was 
just wishing that something really nice would 
happen, and now—” she broke off suddenly, 
but her smile finished the sentence. 

“ That’s sweet of you, Peggy,” he said, and 
for a moment his eyes met and held hers. “ And 
now hurry and get on your hat and coat.” 

Humming snatches of a gay little song, 
Peggy rushed up the stairs three at a time, to 


MASKS OFF 


103 


her bedroom. As she reached it, May sunlight, 
streaming in through the open window, seemed 
to call her out into the open. She suddenly 
flung out her arms with a glad laugh as though 
she would embrace the whole world. She was 
happy — happy — happy. Life was so good — 
brimful of unexpected pleasures that seemed 
to crop up with delightful irregularity. 

She reached down her little white hat from 
the wardrobe and her flame-colored jacket. She 
wanted to look so sweet that afternoon. It was 
worth while dressing for Doug Wyman. He 
always noticed her clothes, commented on them. 
So different from Joe, who had never seemed to 
realize whether she had on a new frock or not. 

As they reached Doug’s Stutz roadster, parked 
on Pinckney Street, Peggy thought that it looked 
so clean and bright and shining against the 
sombre background of the houses that now 
seemed woefully dirty in the bright spring sun¬ 
light. 

“ It’s our Magic Carpet,” laughed Peggy, 
“ that’s going to transplant us into a fairyland 
where there are flowers, and birds singing, and 

green trees-” she laughed excitedly as she 

climbed into the car. 

“ Tell me, Peggy,” he asked, when once they 



104 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


had left Beacon Hill behind and were racing 
out into the country, “ have you missed me these 
last few days?” 

“ Why yes,” said Peggy, and under his keen 
gaze she felt a slight flush creep into her cheeks. 
“ The Coffee House doesn’t seem the same with¬ 
out you constantly dropping in.” 

“ And I’ve missed you, Peggy,” he said softly. 
“ So much. It seems absurd at my age. I kept 
on wondering if you had a date for this Satur¬ 
day. Hoping that you hadn’t. I tell you you’ve 
made me feel like a college freshman again.” 

They were through Watertown now, driving 
on towards Waltham. 

“ I thought we’d stop to have tea at the Way- 
side Inn,” Doug said presently. “ Have you 
ever been there?” 

Peggy shook her head. 

“ It’s a quaint old place,” he continued. 
“ Henry Ford recently bought it in order to keep 
it preserved in its original state. There Long¬ 
fellow stayed and wrote his ‘ Tales of a Wayside 
Inn.’ General La Fayette spent the night there. 
They have his coach in an outhouse now.” 

They came upon the Wayside Inn, out past 
Sudbury, nestling among gently undulating hills, 
with the afternoon sunlight slanting across its 


MASKS OFF 


105 


roof, falling on the flowers in the old-fashioned 
garden. 

“ Lovely — lovely,” whispered Peggy, as she 
wandered about the rooms with their stiff, 
straight-backed chairs and spindle-legged tables 
that belonged to a past generation. 

The kitchen especially delighted her, with the 
quaint wooden utensils and the copper jugs 
and pans. 

“ I wish we could stay here a week,” she said 
impulsively. 

Doug Wyman moved nearer to her, and his 
hand imprisoned hers. 

“ Do you, little Peggy?” he whispered. 
“ Wishes can be made to come true, you know.” 

He spoke lightly enough, but a certain tense¬ 
ness underlay his remark and, for no reason, 
Peggy found herself trembling. She had to laugh 
it off. 

“ Why, that would be fine,” she said. “ A 
house party. Of course we couldn’t keep Fifi 
and Jim out of it.” 

She moved away from him to finger a huge, 
wooden mixing bowl, but all the while she was 
conscious of his eyes upon her and there was 
something in them that made her feel almost 
like some bird which a falcon is pursuing. She 


106 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


was flying away from him and yet, gradually, 
she was conscious that her strength was waning 
— that her wings, as they beat upon the air, 
were becoming weaker — weaker— He was 
gaining upon her — his eyes were compelling 
her- 

She shook herself angrily. Absurd fancy and, 
turning towards Doug, she said with a smile: 

“ When are we going to have this tea that 
you promised me?” 

He took her into the dining room; a long, low- 
ceilinged room with hanging brass candle brack¬ 
ets. Sitting at a little table, they drank tea and 
ate toast and marmalade and cake. 

They chatted pleasantly throughout the meal 
and yet, for some reason, the girl felt vaguely 
uneasy. She had a strange premonition as 
though all this were but a prelude to — prel¬ 
ude to what? 

After tea they went up to explore the ball¬ 
room, and it was this room which fascinated 
Peggy the most. 

“ Can’t you just picture them,” she mur¬ 
mured. “ The women with their tight, clustered 
curls and swinging crinolines, dancing here with 
their partners in the flickering candlelight — 
and upon that little stand the pianist and the 



MASKS OFF 


107 


fiddlers — I wonder what they talked about in 
between the dances — those little grandmothers 
of ours.” 

“ I think I can tell you,” said Doug Wyman, 
falling into her vein as he drew her over by the 
window. “ I can see them standing here, looking 
out onto this same garden as it shimmered in 
the white moonlight. I think they talked of 
love. What other topic has stood the test of 
generations?” 

They were alone in the old ballroom now; 
all the other visitors had left and, to Peggy, 
there was something vaguely terrifying in their 
sudden isolation. They stood together by the 
window and watched the fierce sunlight wane to 
a richer mellower light. The very atmosphere 
seemed to breathe romance. 

Suddenly he turned towards her, a strange 
light shining in his eyes. 

“ Little Peggy,” he whispered, “ let’s drop 
our masks. I love you. I want you more than 
I have ever wanted anything in my life.” 


CHAPTER XII 


“ I Love You ” 

“ You love me,” Peggy faltered tremulous. 

She felt bewildered. It had come upon her 
so suddenly — so unexpectedly. A moment be¬ 
fore she had been dreaming of the romances of 
a gone generation and now she found herself in 
the maelstrom of love herself. 

Doug Wyman had not moved, but she felt 
his eyes upon her — searching her through and 
as though he were seeking to find in her an 
answering spark to his own passion. 

Suddenly she had a swift impulse to flee — 
to escape while there was yet time. Again the 
strange fancy took possession of her that she 
was the bird upon whom he, the falcon, had 
swooped and that even now he was holding her 
in his claws, waiting — 

She half turned to go but something stronger 
than her will power seemed to hold her to that 
spot. Her heart was throbbing madly — she 
put one white hand on the window ledge as 
though to steady herself. 

108 


I LOVE YOU 


109 


Swiftly he bent over her — his hands im¬ 
prisoning her arms. 

“ Little Peggy,” he said — a hoarse note 
creeping into his voice. “ Haven’t you known 
all along that I loved you? Haven’t you read 
it in my eyes — my face — in my every gesture? 
From the first moment I saw you I knew that 
you had been sent to me to love — Peggy, you’re 
not afraid of me?” 

Her lips quivered, “ No,” but they both knew 
that it was untrue. She wondered, in that mo¬ 
ment, what there was in this love of his that had 
the power to frighten her so. Other men had told 
her that they loved her — Joe — and another 
boy she used to go with .before him. Then 
she had been able to smile— to coquet with 
them — to promise with her eyes what her lips 
denied them, but now she felt helpless — caught 
in the grip of something bigger than she had ever 
experienced in her life before. 

“ I didn’t mean to burst it on you like this, 
Peggy,” he was saying. “ I had meant to break 
it to you gradually, but now it’s done, isn’t it, 
Peggy? We can’t go back to the old, happy 
comradeship — we can’t pretend that it’s never 
happened. For it would be there at the back 
of both our minds all the while, and it might 


110 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


even form a sort of a barrier between us. Tell 
me, Peggy, that you love me.” 

He drew her to him and she came — reluc¬ 
tantly. She had wanted to be done with love for 
a while. She had wanted just to play and to 
enjoy herself. She had wanted to be loved by 
many men before she finally pledged her troth, 
and now- 

Half-heartedly she tried to draw away from 
him. 

. “ We don’t know each other so very well, 
Doug,” she parried, forcing a smile. 

“ Don’t fence, Peggy,” he said, almost 
sharply. “ Look at me, Peggy, and then, if 
you can, tell me that you don’t love me.” 

Slowly she turned to face him. 

Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the 
window into the old ballroom, lighting Peggy’s 
pale, oval face with its wide gray eyes and 
sensitive, trembling lips — it brought out copper 
lights in her red brown hair before it fell in 
shimmering pools upon the floor. In that moment 
Peggy seemed to Doug like some stray elf 
escaped from fairyland who had stayed over- 
long in this world and had been caught by dawn. 

“ Peggy, tell me that you love me,” he in¬ 
sisted, drawing her into his arms. 



I LOVE YOU ” 


111 


And then, as she lay against him, almost 
miraculously her doubting ceased and she seemed 
engulfed in a great wave of contentment. Min¬ 
utes passed, as she lay there, and in those 
minutes the child in her died and the woman 
emerged triumphant. Suddenly, driven by 
emotions that were strange to her, she wound 
her arms around his neck and, drawing his head 
down to her, she cried, “ I love you — I love 
you, Doug.” 

At her words a sudden change came over the 
man and, momentarily forgetting his self- 
imposed role, he tightened his hold on her, 
pressing her to him with all the passion of which 
he was capable. 

“ Peggy, I swear you’ll never regret this,” he 
said, as his lips found hers and clung in a kiss. 

Against him she felt her body trembling like 
a reed in a windstorm. She was suddenly terri¬ 
fied by the force of emotions that kiss had 
evoked in her. 

“ Doug, you’ll make me happy — you’ll be 
good to me?” she whispered presently — her 
face hidden against his coat — unconsciously 
voicing the thought uppermost in every woman’s 
heart when she first gives her love to a man. 

He looked down at her bent curly head for 


112 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


a moment, a look that was almost one of pas¬ 
sionate regret passed over his face. 

“ I’ll be good to you/’ he said softly. “ But 
I can’t promise that you’ll be carefree and happy 
— at least not all the time. I can give you love 
and life, but not peace, little Peggy, and yet, 
somehow, I think that I can make it all seem 
worth while to you. It depends whether or not 
you love me well enough — do you, Peggy?” 

He let her go and she moved away from him 
and stood by the window, plucking nervously 
at a creeper that lay entwined on the window 
sill. 

“ Yes — yes, I do,” she said in a low, throb¬ 
bing voice. “ I’ve fought against loving you, 
Doug. I wanted to be free for years and years. 
I tried to tell myself that it was only an infatu¬ 
ation. But it’s no use, Doug. You’ve made all 
the little love affairs that I had before seem so 
dull and colorless. I’m only happy now when 
I’m with you. And yet, in a way, Doug, I wish 
that it hadn’t happened. I did so want to do 
something with my life — just to make a niche 
for myself in the world-” 

“ But why shouldn’t you still, dear?” he 
asked gently. “ Why should our love inter¬ 
fere with your career?” 



“I LOVE YOU ” 


113 


She looked away from him, out to where the 
sun was sinking on the horizon, leaving behind it 
a trailing pathway of crimson red and, suddenly, 
she smiled to herself. It was dear of him and 
yet so like a man to think that she could still 
have a career after they were married, but — 
As his wife she guessed that she would have 
many responsibilities — a house to look after, 
social affairs, and then, perhaps, children. Only 
Peggy was rather vague about these last. She 
thought perhaps she’d like two — a merry, 
romping boy, and then, a little later, a girl 
baby who would some day grow up to be like 
her and have sweethearts of her own and come 
to her mother for advice. That would be rather 
fun she thought. 

“ But Doug dear, there will be so many things 
for me to do after we are married-” 

She paused, her sentence in the air, waiting 
for him to speak. But he didn’t, and a silence 
fell between them that hung like an ugly dark 
curtain, momentarily marring the splendor of 
it all. She felt hurt and puzzled by his silence. 
Then, almost abruptly, he said, “ Let’s get out 
into the open, Peggy. It seems stuffy in here.” 

She followed him out of the ballroom, where 
the ghosts of dead romances lingered, down the 



114 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


old-fashioned stairs, out into the garden. She 
shivered slightly as she came out into the air. 
Was it her imagination, or had the night turned 
suddenly colder? 

Soon in his Stutz roadster they were racing 
through the countryside, while around them the 
shadows lengthened and twilight came down 
upon them like a soft, fleecy cloud. 

He steered with one hand, while the other 
imprisoned hers. She lay back, too happy to 
talk. She felt that she wanted to go on, and 
on — and on — into eternity. 

“ Peggy,” he said, suddenly, in a low voice, 
“ when I first met you I thought that I’d done 
with love. I thought that my heart was a 
bruised, dead thing, just because a woman I 
loved once was false to me. I thought that all 
women were like her; I determined that, in the 
future, I’d only play with them — take what 
I wanted — never let them get beneath the sur¬ 
face. Then I met you, little Peggy, and I loved 
you from the start. You were so fresh, so free 
from all the affectations I’d learned to hate 
in women. I forgot to be bitter, Peggy, when I 
was with you — I ceased to be cynical — Peggy, 
I wonder if you know all that you’ve done to 
me?” 


I LOVE YOU 


115 


He smiled down at her as he stopped the car 
in a little side road, where a canopy of leaves 
shut out the sky. 

“ I’m glad you told me, Doug,” she said 
gently. “ So glad. All my life I’ll try and 
make you forget — that other woman.” 

“ I wonder if you’ll stick to me, Peggy,” he 
said with a queer note in his voice, as presently 
she lay in his arms. “ I’m wondering if you’ll 
have strength enough.” 

It was quite late when they returned to the 
Yellow Dragon Coffee House. Doug refused 
her invitation to come inside but, as they stood 
on the steps he said, “ Unfortunately, I have 
to be away this week, but I’ll be back next 
week-end. Keep Saturday for me, Peggy dear. 
We’ll start early and have a long day together.” 

Peggy was very happy as she came into the 
dining room. She hoped that Fifi would be 
still there. She was bursting to tell some one 
her glorious news. 

But Fifi wasn’t there. Jenny was sitting at 
a corner table talking to a woman in a black 
coat and skirt, who had her back turned to 
Peggy. 

As she saw Peggy enter the room, Jenny 
called her over to them. “ Friend of mine wants 


116 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


to meet you,” she said, and then Peggy found 
herself staring into the face of the woman who 
had spoken to Doug that night in the ballroom 
of the Copley Plaza — the same woman whose 
photograph she had seen later in his bedroom 
drawer. 


CHAPTER XIII 
A Strange Warning . 

There was a moment’s pause, while Peggy 
and the woman in black stood staring at one 
another. Then, stretching out her hand, the 
stranger said in a soft purring voice, “ I’ve often 
wondered when we should meet again, Miss 
Mason.” 

Peggy murmured something and sank down 
into the chair which Jenny had placed for her 
at the table. She felt strangely bewildered. 
Why should this woman, who had evidently 
played some part in Doug’s life, wish to know 
her? What had been her purpose in speaking to 
Peggy that night in the limousine outside the 
Copley Plaza, and in later following them in a 
taxi? She wished now that Doug had explained 
it all to her more fully. She determined to ask 
him next time they met. 

In the flickering candlelight she seemed to 
Peggy almost more beautiful than before. The 
soft light toned down the hard lines about her 
mouth and made her appear years younger. Her 
117 


118 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


hair, under her small black toque, shone like 
beaten gold and she held herself regally, as one 
accustomed to the homage of men. 

She would have graced any salon; any court 
or diplomatic function, and to Peggy she seemed 
strangely out of place in the dining room of the 
Coffee House, with its low ceiling and rough 
wooden floors. 

“Charming place you have here, Miss Mason,” 
she said. “ So quaint and old-fashioned. Jenny 
was telling me that you were one of the share¬ 
holders.” 

“ Only in a very small way, I’m afraid,” Peggy 
hastened to say. “ The principal shareholders 
are Mrs. Gordon and-” , She hesitated, un¬ 

willing that Doug’s name should be mentioned 
between them. “ One other,” she concluded 
lamely. 

The woman laughed and, taking a cigarette 
from a tortoise-shell case, she commenced tap¬ 
ping one end of it gently on the table. 

“ Of course you are referring to Mr. Wyman,” 
she said, “ and I’m not surprised. Doug would 
buy an interest in a Stray Cats’ House providing 
the caretaker was young and pretty enough.” 

As she spoke she looked across at Peggy from 
under her lashes and there was something mock- 



A STRANGE WARNING 


119 


ing in her glance that made two bright spots of 
color burn in Peggy’s cheeks. 

She half rose from the table. 

“ If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “ I think I’ll 
be going to bed. I’m rather tired.” 

But the woman laid a hand on her arm to 
detain her. 

“ Please don’t go, Miss Mason,” she said. “ I 
should so like to become friendly with you. I 
am sure you’ll find that we have quite a lot in 
common.” 

There was nothing unusual in her words and 
she smiled as she said them and yet, to Peggy, 
there seemed something sinister, threatening 
almost, in the latter half of her remark. 

Reluctantly Peggy sat down again. She 
wished that she had sufficient strength of charac¬ 
ter to insist upon leaving but, somehow, she 
felt that she was no match for the strange 
woman. 

“ We have a mutual friend, you know, in Mr. 
Wyman,” she was saying. “ Doug and I have 
known each other for many years. Rather fas¬ 
cinating— don’t you find him so?” 

Peggy nodded slowly. 

“ He has been very nice to me,” she said. 

The woman’s lips twisted in a curious smile. 


120 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ It’s Doug’s policy to be nice — up to a certain 
point,” she said. “ He’s rather good at playing 
the kindly benefactor to lonely, pretty little 
girls. You’d laugh if I told you some of the 
stories I know about him.” 

She spoke as though she and Peggy were old 
friends discussing a mutual acquaintance, but 
all the while she was watching Peggy with a 
keen, penetrating glance. 

“ I really don’t think I’d be interested,” said 
Peggy, trying to speak calmly, but her lips were 
trembling with suppressed anger. How dare this 
woman insinuate such things? What did she 
hope to gain by them, anyway? Surely she 
didn’t imagine that Peggy would believe her 
before the man she loved! 

“ You mean you don’t know him sufficiently 
to be interested?” said the woman, purposely 
misinterpreting Peggy’s remark. “ Then I must 
be mistaken in thinking that you spent the after¬ 
noon and evening with him?” 

Peggy looked swiftly across at Jenny, it was 
obvious that it was through her that the woman 
had obtained her information. But Jenny was 
purposely avoiding Peggy’s eyes; she seemed 
rather uncomfortable. 

There was a brief pause, while the strange 


A STRANGE WARNING 


121 


woman struck a match to light her cigarette. 

“ If you’re the wise little girl I take you for, 
you won’t disregard what an older woman tells 
you,” she said presently. “ I know that he’s 
fascinating, child, but you’re not the only little 
girl who has thought that. In fact, he’s a 
sort of beloved vagabond. He never stays long 
in one place — just long enough to win some 
easy conquest and then he’s off on the trail 
of some new face that’s fresher, prettier.” 

She smiled at Peggy across the table, but 
her smile infuriated Peggy. She wondered what 
object this woman could have in trying to poison 
her mind against Doug? Could it be that she 
was jealous of Peggy and wanted Doug Wyman 
for herself? At the thought a sudden sense of 
triumph shot through Peggy. In spite of the 
woman’s charm and polish he had preferred 
her. 

“ Are you trying to warn me against Mr. 
Wyman?” she said. “ Because, if so, I’m afraid 

that you’re wasting your time-” 

“ That so?” said the other, and her eyes nar¬ 
rowed slowly until they were like two slits of 
steel-blue crystal. “ I was a little afraid that 

I might be too late-” 

There was no missing the insinuation that lay 




122 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


behind her words and Peggy suddenly found 
herself flushing furiously. 

“ What do you mean?” 

The woman shrugged her shoulders. 

“ Is there any need for me to go into details? 
Surely not. Just a sordid little story, but not 
uncommon. A man of the world and a pretty, 
foolish girl recently let loose from home-” 

But this time she had gone too far. 

Peggy had risen from the table, her gray eyes 
flashing and her color coming and going, white, 
then red- 

“ I think IVe stood about enough,” she said, 
her voice trembling. “ What right have you to 
say these things to me?” 

The woman opened her mouth to speak; then, 
evidently changing her mind, she shut it again. 
There was a brief, tense pause and, when she 
finally spoke, the old mocking note had crept 
back into her voice. 

“ You’d better ask Doug Wyman to tell you 
that,” she said softly. 

Without speaking, Peggy turned on her heel 
and made her way across the dining room. Her 
cheeks were burning with rage; her one desire 
was to be alone. 

As she passed out of earshot she overheard 




A STRANGE WARNING 


123 


Jenny say, “ You shouldn’t have said that, 
Gloria, Peggy’s straight, anyway-” 

Their voices became a murmur as she climbed 
the stairs to her bedroom. 

Reaching her room she flung open the window. 
The night was the same, warm and clear, with a 
moon that was like an inverted bowl of crystal 
light, but for Peggy the beauty of the night had 
gone. 

She leant her face against the woodwork at 
the side and looked down to where the Charles 
River flowed, dark and sullen, with the myriad 
of lights twinkling along its banks. Somewhere 
beside it in that sea of homes at the foot of the 
Hill was Doug Wyman — the man she loved 

— the man who loved her-Yes, yes, he did, 

she told herself passionately, in spite of what 
that woman had insinuated. Jealousy — that 
was it — jealousy. Well, if need be, she’d fight 
for Doug. He was worth fighting for. She 
loved him so. What was it that he had said to 
her? Something about that before he met her 
he had thought that he had done with love, 
because a woman whom he had once loved had 
proved false. Peggy began to wonder if that 
woman downstairs could possibly be she? In 
that case it all began to grow a little clearer in 




124 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Peggy’s brain. Possibly she now regretted hav¬ 
ing treated him badly — wanted him back again. 
Peggy clenched her hands. Well, she shouldn’t 
have him. He was hers — Peggy’s. They 
loved each other — soon they would be mar¬ 
ried. And then, with a sudden sense of dismay, 
it occurred to Peggy that Doug had said nothing 
about marriage. At first she fought fiercely 
against the thought, it seemed to her disloyal 
to Doug, somehow, but gradually it took pos¬ 
session of her. Marriage had been mentioned 
— yes — but she herself had brought it up. 
Doug had been strangely silent at the time — 
she remembered now. She had felt hurt about 
it even then. 

She closed her eyes; they were smarting with 
tears. 

“ Dear God,” she whispered. “ He wants to 
marry me. I know he does.” 

Resolutely she tried to make herself believe 
that he had meant to ask her to marry him — 
only, carried away by their love he had for¬ 
gotten. Perhaps, even, he had thought that he 
had done so. But, still, throughout the long 
night she was haunted by fears and doubts and 
once Fifi’s words came back to torment: “ Well, 
don’t take him too seriously-” What had 



A STRANGE WARNING 


125 


she meant by that? Peggy tried in vain to 
wrack her brains for an answer. Who had said 
that love was a glad, happy thing? Peggy found 
it an agony — a torture. All night long she 
tossed about without once losing consciousness. 
With the first white rays of dawn she got up 
and dressed. She had determined that she would 
see Doug without delay. Surely disappointment, 
disillusionment even, were better than the tor¬ 
ment she had passed through during the night 
— and, after all, she told herself, he would 
probably set her mind at rest in a moment. 

In the cold gray light of morning she stepped 
out onto Pinckney Street. For an hour or so 
she wandered aimlessly around, watching the 
city gradually come back to life. She felt that 
it was too early yet to call on Doug. Seven 
o’clock had struck, finally, before she had suf¬ 
ficient courage to go into his apartment building 
and press his bell. 

She waited anxiously and then rang again, and 
again, receiving no reply. She wondered what 
could be the matter — grew vaguely frightened. 
At last, in desperation, she called the janitor. 
He told her, bluntly, that all he knew of Mr. 
Wyman was that he had caught a late train for 
New York the night before. 


CHAPTER XIV 


The Toast 

Peggy spent a miserable week. She tried to 
keep her mind occupied with her work, but failed 
hopelessly. If she had had his address she would 
have written to Doug Wyman, but she hadn’t 
the slightest idea where he stayed while he was 
in New York. At times she wondered if Jenny 
Howard would know, but always something — 
pride, perhaps — prevented her from asking the 
girl. 

Each morning, a box of flowers would arrive 
for her from a well-known Boston florist. Roses 
sometimes and, at others, fresh, sweet violets 
that scented Peggy’s little room and made her 
think of summer gardens when the air is 
heavy with the perfume of dew-sodden flowers 
— and always, among the blossoms, she would 
find Doug Wyman’s card. He never wrote to 
her but, on four occasions, he sent her telegrams 
—telling her anew of his love and reminding her 
of her promise to spend Saturday with him. 

She treasured these telegrams, although she 
wished that he would send her a letter; it seemed 
126 


THE TOAST 


127 


strange that he shouldn’t write and give her 
an address so that she could answer him. 

June came in with a heat wave. Spring 
seemed to vanish over night and, before Peggy 
quite realized it, summer had definitely begun. 

Peggy found the days hot and tiresome in the 
Coffee House. The sun pouring in through the 
small, latticed windows made her long for the 
country with the green fields and the soft, cool 
breezes that brought with them the scent of 
new mown hay. 

One evening, when Peggy was visiting Fifi in 
her quaint Italian drawing room, Fifi suddenly 
spoke of Doug Wyman. 

“ I think Doug’s very fond of you, Peggy,” 
she said pensively. “ At first I didn’t think that 
he was serious but, somehow, lately — you’re 
fond of him, aren’t you, Peggy?” 

Peggy didn’t reply immediately. She moved 
restlessly over to the window. She was thinking 
of that afternoon not so long ago when she had 
come into this room for the first time. It was 
here that she had met Doug Wyman — about 
two months ago, although to Peggy it seemed 
much longer than that. 

“ Yes — Fifi,” she said presently. “ He’s 
-” she paused, overcome by a strange sense 



128 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


of embarrassment. She longed to tell Fifi of 
their love — to ask her advice. But something 

— she did not know quite what — kept her 
silent, so, instead, she said: 

“ Have you known him long, Fifi?” 

“ Not so very long,” said Fifi, as she threw 
herself back among a pile of cushions. “ I met 
him about six months ago, when he first came to 
the Hill to live. Jim and I became great pals 
with him and, for a time, he practically lived 
here. But, apart from that, he’s never told me 
of his private affairs, and I’ve never asked him. 
I’ve found that’s the secret of keeping friends, 
Peggy — never be inquisitive. A friend who 
wants to know how you spend every minute of 
the day when you’re away from him, or her, is 
worse than a husband who does the same thing 

— and he’s bad enough, heaven alone knows.” 
She broke off with a laugh, then, presently, as 
she lit a cigarette, she added, “ I only know 
that Doug has business interests in New York 
which necessitate his spending a considerable 
amount of time there.” 

Peggy nodded without speaking and, as the 
silence* lengthened, Fifi got up from the couch 
and crossed over to the girl, putting her arm 
around her waist. 


THE TOAST 


129 


“ Peggy, dear, there isn’t anything wrong? 
You’ve seemed a little distrait lately, as though 
something were worrying you.” 

For the second time that evening, Peggy felt 
she would like to tell Fifi all, but again her pride 
intervened. 

After all, she told herself quickly, she would 
see Doug on Saturday and then, in all proba¬ 
bility she’d find that she had been worrying 
herself needlessly. 

She turned towards Fifi with a smile. “ You’re 
a dear,” she said, “ but I assure you that there’s 
nothing wrong. It’s the heat, probably-” 

Still Fifi looked skeptical. She had her own 
reasons for suspecting that Peggy hadn’t told 
her the truth. But she didn’t wish to force the 
younger girl’s confidence, so she said, “ You 
know, Peggy, I’m awfully fond of Doug. He 
pretends to be cynical, but that’s just a shield 
so people won’t suspect that underneath he has 
a wonderfully kind heart. He’s a little bitter at 
times, too. I have a feeling in my bones that, 
sometime in his life, he suffered some great 
disappointment.” 

After that they went on to talk of other things 
and neither of them referred to Doug again 
that evening. But, as Peggy went home that 



130 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


night, she felt happier in her mind than she had 
for days. Unconsciously, Fifi’s faith in Doug 
seemed to have lifted a load from her mind. 
She chided herself for her own misgivings and 
even caught herself humming snatches of a^song 
as she got ready for bed. 

She was awake very early that Saturday 
morning. The first thing she did upon opening 
her eyes was to run over to the window to 
see what the day promised. The sky was a 
mass of pink and yellow light and already a 
faint mist of heat hung shimmering in the air. 

“ It’s going to be a wonderful day,” cried 
Peggy, unconsciously speaking aloud. “ And I’m 
going to be so happy.” 

She looked absurdly young as she stood there 
by the open window, in her plain voile night 
gown that only partly hid the slim lines of her 
boyish figure. Her hair was a tousled mop 
about her face and, suddenly shaking it back, 
she seated herself on the window ledge and 
wound her arms around her knees, childishly 
hugging them to her. 

She was going to see Doug that day. She 
kept telling herself, happily, that everything 
would come right — everything would come 
right. 


THE TOAST 


131 


Ten was just striking as Doug Wyman 
stopped his Stutz roadster before the Coffee 
House. He honked his horn twice to warn 
Peggy of his arrival and, a moment later, she 
came running down the steps to meet him. He 
thought her very sweet and fresh in her pink 
muslin frock and her wide, floppy straw hat. 

“ You look like Miss Summer Girl, stepped 
right out of a magazine cover,” he told her as he 
took both her hands in his. “ Little Peggy, have 
you any idea how I’ve been aching for the sight 
of you all this week?” 

Peggy laughed excitedly and smiled up into 
his eyes. 

“ Doug, you flatterer,” she exclaimed. “ You 
could make any woman believe that she was the 
one and only if you looked at her like that — 
even if she were as old as Methuselah and had 
three chins.” 

“ What nonsense, Peggy,” he retorted. “ You 
know there’s only one little woman whom I want 
to convince that she’s the one and only — even 
she seems scarcely a woman this morning. I 
declare that she doesn’t look a day over fifteen! ” 

Peggy drew her hands away and moved 
towards the car. “ Do let’s start,” she cried 
impulsively. “ It’s such a marvelous day, and 


132 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Em just aching to get out into the country.” 

“ Where’s your coat, Peggy?” he asked, as 
he followed her. “ You’d better bring it along 
with you.” 

She wrinkled up her nose at him. “ I don’t 
want a coat,” she exclaimed. “ Why, it’s so 
hot now that I’m almost sizzling. And we won’t 
be late getting back, will we?” 

“ One can never tell, Peggy,” he replied, and, 
as he turned away from her, a queer look showed 
momentarily in his eyes, “ so, if you don’t mind, 
I’ll go upstairs and bring it down for you.” 

Before she could reply he was gone. 

She stood for a moment on that worn pave¬ 
ment like some gaily colored butterfly poised 
for flight, then she started to climb into the car. 
As she stepped in she stumbled over a leather 
suit case lying on the floor. Without thinking 
about it she kicked it back under the seat and, 
sitting in his place she started to play with the 
gears. 

“ I want to teach you to drive, Peggy,” he 
said presently, as he joined her. “ Some day 
soon I’m going to give you a little car all of your 
own.” 

“ Why how dear of you, Doug,” she cried, 
her eyes shining. “ I shall just love that.” 


THE TOAST 133 

She made place for him and they started 
off. 

“ I thought we’d go towards the White Moun¬ 
tains,” he said presently. “ I had a lunch basket 
packed so directly you feel hungry, say so, and 
we’ll go into the woods and eat.” 

Peggy nodded lazily. She had curled herself 
up in a corner like a Persian 1 kitten. She felt 
very content with life at that moment. The 
bright sunlight seemed to have scattered her 
fears and she was beginning to wonder why she 
had ever been such a fool as to worry. Of 
course Doug wanted to marry her! Otherwise, 
would he be giving her a brand new car? It 
had been a misunderstanding — that was all. 
She had intended to tell him of the strange 
woman’s visit to the Coffee House and what 
she had said but, now that she had her oppor¬ 
tunity, somehow she kept on putting it off. For 
the time being, at any rate, she was content 
to let things drift. 

She noticed that he was unusually silent all 
that morning and occasionally, when she cast a 
glance sideways at him, she saw that there was a 
strange, set expression on his face. She won¬ 
dered if anything could be wrong. Presently 
she asked him. 


134 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ I had rather a hard week in New York,” he 
said. “ I guess I’m feeling the results of it.” 

After they had driven for some time, Doug 
stopped the car and suggested that they have 
lunch. 

They were now well out into the country 
and the car was drawn up beside a clump of 
shady trees. 

“ We’d better walk in a little way so as to 
escape the dust of passing cars,” Doug said, as 
he took the lunch basket from out of the back 
of the car. 

Peggy agreed and they walked some distance 
through the trees until they found a nice patch 
of grass beside the fallen trunk of a tree. Doug 
put the hamper down and Peggy knelt on the 
ground and started to unpack it. Doug seated 
himself on the end of the log and drew his 
cigarette case from his pocket. 

“ What do you do in New York, Doug?” she 
asked presently, as she spread a white table 
cloth on the grass. 

“ Gamble on the stock exchange,” he replied 
absently. Then later he added, “ There’s some 
champagne at the bottom of the basket. Have 
you found it yet?” 

“Champagne!” she exclaimed. “My — you 


THE TOAST 


135 


have been extravagant. Is this a celebration 
or something of the sort?” 

Doug knocked the ash off his cigarette. 

“ Yes, in a way it’s a celebration,” he said. 
“ Or, at least, I hope that it’s going to be.” 

“ How very mysterious,” she mocked, as she 
handed him the bottle. 

Doug took it from her and drew the cork. 
Then he seated himself beside her and poured 
out the champagne. He raised his glass. 
“ Here’s wishing myself success in a gamble that 
means more to me than any I’ve ever 
attempted,” he said slowly, gazing straight at 
Peggy. 


CHAPTER XV 
The Love Gamble 

“ What’s this gamble that’s so important?” 
she laughed back at him as she raised the foam¬ 
ing liquid to her own lips. 

He looked at her strangely. 

“ You’ll know soon enough,” he said, and 
abruptly changed the conversation. 

Peggy was feeling too contented and lazy to 
press the point further. She chatted to him 
about little incidents that had taken place in 
the Coffee House during the week, while they 
ate. The meal was delicious — cold chicken and 
crisp brown rolls with a strawberry shortcake 
that positively oozed cream. 

“ Luscious — luscious,” cried Peggy, as she 
dug her teeth into it. “ However did you guess 
all the things that I like best, Mr. Man?” 

He smiled at her. “ Perhaps I like the same 
things, Peggy,” he said. “ Hold qut your glass 
and I’ll give you some more champagne.” 

She drank it slowly and, as the wine gurgled 
136 


THE LOVE GAMBLE 


137 


its way through her veins, a delightfully happy, 
don’t-care feeling crept over her. 

She lay back on the sweet-smelling grass and 
pillowed her head on the log. 

“ It’s so isolated here,” she said. “ It seems 
almost as though we were stranded on a desert 
island.” 

He came closer to, her and imprisoned her 
hand. 

“ Don’t you wish that we were, little Peggy? 
Just you and I with nothing to care about 
except ourselves?” 

But Peggy was in a mischievous mood. 

“ Of course I don’t,” she mocked, her eyes 
dancing up at him. “ Where would we find 
chicken already cooked and delicious shortcake 
on a desert island?” 

He laughed. “ You’re a practical little devil,” 
he said. 

“ Perhaps I am. I suppose that’s a bit of 
father sticking out of me.” 

It was quite cool inside the woods; the sun 
was completely shut out by a canopy of leaves 
that rustled slightly with each fresh gust of 
wind. 

Presently she got up to brush the crumbs off 
her lap and, was just about to sit down again, 


138 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


when Doug sprang up beside her and caught her 
in his arms. 

“ Peggy, you little witch,” he said. “ What 
have you done to me? I’m crazy about you. 
Every moment I’m away from you I’m terrified 
that something may happen to you — that you 
may meet some fellow whom you will learn to 
love instead of me.” 

“ Silly,” she chided him, stroking his cheek 
with her hand as she gave him her fresh, soft 
lips to kiss, “ surely you don’t think I’m as 
fickle as all that.” Then, gently disentangling 
herself, she added, her gray eyes twinkling: 
“ But, don’t let’s get mushy. Somehow, I don’t 
feel like it today. I want just to dance around 
and sing. I feel like a two-year-old at this 
very minute.” 

Doug stood still for a moment, kicking the 
turf with his heel; he looked a little put out 
but, presently, he smiled and tried to fall into 
her vein. 

Idly he picked some soft green ferns and 
twined them in her hair. 

“ You look just like Titania,” he said, “ and 
I, I suppose, am Puck.” 

She glanced up at him as he knelt before her. 
Despite his jesting words it seemed to her that 


THE LOVE GAMBLE 


139 


his merriment was forced and, occasionally, when 
he hadn’t thought that she was looking at him, 
she had surprised a queer, unfathomable expres¬ 
sion on his face. 

“You don’t make a very convincing Puck,” she 
smiled. “ I think, taking everything into con¬ 
sideration, that I’ll allow you to be Oberon.” 

For reply he took the palm of her hand and 
kissed it gently, then, springing to his feet, he 
suggested that they start off once more in the 
car. 

When the heat of the sun had subsided and 
the sky was a flaming mass of orange and red, 
Peggy remarked: 

“ Hadn’t we better be turning back, Doug? 
We must be miles and miles out of town.” 

He hesitated momentarily before replying, 
then he said, “ Very well, but do you mind going 
back by another route? It bores me dreadfully 
to go over the same ground twice in one day.” 

Of course Peggy didn’t mind, why should 
she? And a moment later Doug turned off the 
main highway and started down a back road that 
ran at right angles to it. 

Twilight had come down (upon them and, 
gradually, Peggy began to grow vaguely appre¬ 
hensive. It would soon be dark, and she figured 


140 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


that, even without any mishaps, it would be 
very late before they got back to the Coffee 
House. 

“ I must have lost all sense of direction,” she 
remarked presently, “ because it seems to me as 
though we’ve been going all the while in the 
same direction.” 

He gave a short laugh. 

“ What nonsense,” he said. “ These roads are 
very misleading but we’re on the right track, 
for I happen to know this section of the country 
well.” 

Peggy began to feel rather chilled and she 
was glad to put on the coat that Doug had 
insisted upon bringing for her. She lay back 
in a corner and tried to dispel the doubts that 
were once more taking possession of her. She 
realized, suddenly, that Doug had not yet said 
anything definitely about their marriage. She 
tried to nerve herself to ask him about it but 
something — fear, perhaps — kept her silent. 
The excitement of seeing him again — the 
champagne at lunch — the bright sunshine, had 
temporarily lulled her fears, but now, as dark¬ 
ness closed over them, one by one they were 
returning to her. 

The words of the woman in black came back to 


THE LOVE GAMBLE 


141 


torment her: “ He’s a sort of beloved vagabond 
— never stays long in one place, just long 
enough to make some easy conquest and then 
he’s off on the trail of some new face that’s 
fresher — prettier-” 

No — no — it couldn’t be true, she told her¬ 
self quickly. The woman was jealous, that 
must be it. But who was she, anyway, and 
what right had she to say such things? Well, 
she would ask Doug soon — very soon. Post¬ 
poning the issue — always postponing it. Per¬ 
haps it was because somewhere at the back of 
Peggy’s mind there lurked the haunting dread 
that the truth might drag her out of the imagi¬ 
nary paradise in which she was living. A fool’s 
paradise, if you like to call it that. She was 
terrified to leave it even for a moment to 
face what cold truths might lie outside its 
bounds. 

But, despite her fears and doubts, she still 
clung fiercely to her love for Doug. That 
was something that had nothing to do with 
reason. 

Impulsively she put out her hand and touched 
his arm. Almost hungrily he seized her hand 
and, in silence, he kissed each one of her fingers 
before finally letting it go. 



142 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Presently she said, drawing closer to him, “ We 
must be nearly home by now, Doug.” 

She thought that he spoke almost harshly in 
reply. 

“ So eager to get back then, Peggy? That’s 
not a great compliment to me, you know.” 

“ I didn’t mean it like that, Doug,” she said 
quickly. “ I’ve had just a marvelous day, only 
it’s so dark now and I’m getting a little cold.” 

“ We’ll be stopping for supper in a moment,” 
he said, “ and, anyway, there is a rug under the 
seat.” 

He stopped the car as he wrapped it around 
her knees, and then they started off again, at 
an increased speed. 

The night was very dark, with a pale ghost of 
a moon wandering in the sky. 

Peggy thought that the country seemed sud¬ 
denly to have become strangely hilly, mountain¬ 
ous almost, and, as the headlights swept the 
road, she noticed that the surrounding land 
was wild and rugged. 

The fact struck her as peculiar and she com¬ 
mented on it to Doug. 

“ This road isn’t much travelled,” he replied. 
“ I like driving along it though, because you 
avoid the traffic.” 


THE LOVE GAMBLE 


143 


Presently they branched off from the road 
and went up a short, steep incline, stopping sud¬ 
denly before a small wooden bungalow. 

“ Get out, Peggy,” he said. “ This is where 
we are going to have supper.” 

Peggy stared from him to the bungalow in 
amazement. 

“ But I don’t understand,” she said slowly. 

“ It’s really quite simple,” he explained, with 
a laugh. “ I arranged it all as a little surprise 
for you. This is a week-end hut which belongs 
to a friend of mine; he uses it for fishing excur¬ 
sions. As he wasn’t wanting it this evening I 
asked him for the loan of it and I got my man 
to come out by train this morning and lay a 
supper in readiness for us. It’ll be ever so much 
more fun than eating in a hotel. Come on, 
Peggy, and let’s explore. I declare I’m 
famished.” % 

“ Don’t you think we’d better go straight 
on,” said Peggy, doubtfully. “ It’s going to be 
so fearfully late-” 

But he cut in on her. 

“ Don’t worry, Peggy,” he said, turning im¬ 
patiently towards the door, “ we can easily get 
back afterwards.” 

She followed him in rather reluctantly, but 



144 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


no sooner was she inside the room than she 
exclaimed with delight. She found it strangely 
attractive with its low ceiling and bare board 
floor, upon which great yellow tiger skins were 
flung. Around the walls were hunting trophies, 
and on one side was a great, brick fireplace. 

“ My friend once went on a big game expedi¬ 
tion in Africa, hence the decorations,” explained 
Doug as he bent over the hearth and struck a 
match to the piled-up logs. 

Soon there was a blazing, roaring fire, which 
comforted Peggy, for the night seemed to have 
turned decidedly chilly and she had got cold 
driving. 

They found the supper table already laid for 
them and Doug declared that he intended cook¬ 
ing a steak and boiling a kettle over the fire. 

Finally, when it was done, they sat and ate 
in the firelight, and Peggy discovered that she 
had a keen appetite. They had a merry meal, 
laughing and chatting while the firelight played 
about them, bringing out the copper lights in 
Peggy’s hair and casting strange shadows on the 
ceiling. 

“ I say, Peggy,” said Doug, suddenly, as they 
sat over their coffee, “ wouldn’t this be a splen¬ 
did place in which to spend a honeymoon?” 


THE LOVE GAMBLE 


145 


Peggy was thankful at that moment for the 
dim light. 

“ Yes, I guess it would,” she said with an 
effort to speak casually. Then, rising to her 
feet, she added, “ and now, Doug, I think that 
we’d better be going.” 

Lie followed her over to the fireplace and took 
her gently in his arms. 

“Going-where, Peggy?” 

She looked up at him with wide, startled 
eyes. 

“ Back to the Coffee House, of course, Doug 
— please don’t tease me.” 

He laughed softly and, bending forward, he 
kissed her on the lips. “ I’m not teasing you, 
little Peggy,” he replied, “ but there isn’t the 
slightest possibility of your getting back to 
Boston tonight.” 



CHAPTER XVI 


Cards Down 

Surprise, incredulity and fear chased them¬ 
selves across Peggy’s face. 

“ What do you mean?” she asked sharply. 

“ Exactly what I said,” replied Doug, “ that 
there isn’t the slightest possibility of your get¬ 
ting back to Boston tonight.” 

There was a short pause, and then Peggy 
said weakly, “ You’re — you’re joking, Doug.” 

He laughed softly and, bending forward, he 
tried to kiss her again, only she evaded him. 

“ I assure you that I was never more serious 
in my life.” 

“ But, I don’t understand. Why can’t we get 
back tonight? Surely we can’t be so very far 
out of town, considering that we’d been driving 
back for at least three hours before we stopped 
here for supper.” 

“ But we weren’t driving towards Boston,” 
he told her. “ We were driving hard in the 
opposite direction.” 

She moved away from him towards the fire- 
146 


CARDS DOWN 


147 


place, momentarily the shock of it seemed to 
have stunned her. 

“ But why — Doug?” 

“ Why — little Peggy? Do you need to ask 
me that? Don’t you know that I love you? 
Don’t you know that I want you more than I’ve 

ever wanted anything in my life-?” A note 

of passion had crept into his voice and, moving 
over to her, he put one arm around her shoul¬ 
ders. “ Listen, Peggy. I took the step be¬ 
cause I knew that you’d never have the courage 
to take it yourself. Women are like that — they 
always balk at doing anything definite. They 
worry themselves sick — fear for the future . 
They talk about snapping their fingers at con¬ 
ventions, but when it comes to the point, they’re 
frightened to act. So I’ve saved you all the 
worry and trouble, little Peggy. I’ve decided 
for you. We’re starting together on a glorious 
honeymoon tonight.” 

Peggy had been listening to him but she 
hadn’t taken in all that he had said. She felt 
too bewildered. 

“ Honeymoon? But, Doug, we’re — we’re not 
married yet.” 

He put both arms around her, drawing her 
to him. 



148 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ Peggy, is your love for me so poor a thing 
that it must cling to formalities and conven¬ 
tions? When you said that you loved me, did 
you mean that you loved me only on condition 
that I provided you with a wedding ring? Non¬ 
sense! You’re too natural for that, Peggy. 
You loved me because you couldn’t help your¬ 
self. Don’t you feel the warm blood racing 
through your veins when I hold you close like 
this, Peggy? Don’t you feel your own heart 
throbbing against mine? Isn’t it a finer thing 
to surrender when your whole being demands it 
than wait until cold reason sanctions your action 
as wise? Little Peggy — don’t be frightened, 
I’ll be good to you — always.” 

His voice had risen to a pitch of passionate 
entreaty and as he finished he pressed her to 
him, covering her face and eyes and throat with 
kisses. 

For a while Peggy lay motionless in his arms, 
while a torrent of emotions swept over her, 
making her head reel with their very intensity. 
She felt like a piece of driftwood, carried hither 
and thither on a raging sea and, momentarily, 
she seemed robbed of all power to shape her own 
destiny. 

Then gradually the tumult within her died 


CARDS DOWN 


149 


and as her brain cleared, she said slowly, “ But, 
if you love me as you say you do, Doug, what 
is there to prevent your marrying me first?” 

He looked at her for a full moment before 
replying and then, without loosening his hold 
on her, he said: 

“ Peggy, dear — Fm married already.” 

There was a short silence, pregnant with 
unvoiced thoughts. Her face had gone very 
white and, in the dim light of the flickering 
fire, she could feel his eyes seeking hers — 
pleading with her — beseeching her- 

But, just as the first shock had stunned her, 
so this second seemed to make her brain abnor¬ 
mally clear. She drew herself away from him 
and, without protest, he let her go. 

Finally she spoke, with an effort, as she leaned 
against the mantel shelf. 

“ You’re — married — already. Then why 
haven’t you told me before?” 

“ Because I didn’t want to prejudice you 
against me, Peggy. I wanted to give myself 
a fighting chance. I knew that if I told you I 
was a married man you wouldn’t have allowed 
yourself to love me — and I wanted your love. 
God knows I need it, Peggy.” 

Perhaps, had she met his eyes at that moment, 



150 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


or heard the note of sincerity in his voice, she 
would have weakened. But she was gazing 
straight into the fire and she scarcely heard him, 
so occupied was she with the thoughts that 
were racing through her brain. 

Out of the fire a woman’s face seemed to be 
staring at her — a face coldly beautiful, with 
bright yellow hair and, again, she heard those 
lips saying: “. . .he never stays long in any 
one place — just long enough to make some 
easy conquest, and then he’s off on the trail 
of some face that’s fresher — prettier-” 

Something cold seemed to grip her heart — 
squeezing the life out of it until it w$s a poor 
dead thing. 

She heard herself speaking, and she had a 
queer sensation as though it were not her own 
voice at all. 

“ And that woman — the one we met at the 
Copley Plaza — who is she?” 

“ That’s my wife,” he answered, without look¬ 
ing at her. 

Peggy nodded slowly. It almost seemed to 
her as though she must have known this all 
along, only purposely she had been blind to it. 
The knowledge seemed to shake her out of her 
strange calm and raise her to a pitch of fury. 



CARDS DOWN 


151 


“ Surely I had a right to know,” she cried, her 
eyes flashing. 

“ I suppose you had, Peggy,” he said slowly. 

“ I guess I was a coward — I was afraid-” 

he broke off abruptly. He seemed suddenly to 
have grown older; there were tired lines about 
his mouth and eyes. “ I’ll tell you now, Peggy,” 
he said. “ We were married ten years ago. She 
was on the stage at the time, a show girl in a 
New York Revue. I was still at college and was 
fool enough to imagine myself infatuated with 
her. A week after we first met I married her. 
I didn’t quite realize what I was doing at the 
time. It happened after a dinner party and 
there’d been quite a lot of drink going around. 
Someone dared us to get married and, well — 
we did. 

“ Even then it mightn’t have been such a 
ghastly failure, for I loved her at first, but she 
— well she soon made it plain that she’d only 
married me that she might have the badge of 
respectability while she played around with 
every Tom, Dick or Harry who happened to 
attract her fancy. I’m not accusing her of any¬ 
thing— she always took damn good care to 
keep within the bounds of propriety. I think 
my money attracted her, too. To cut a long 



152 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


story short, we soon separated and, although 
I’ve repeatedly asked her to divorce me, she’s 
always refused. I’ve had her watched, but she’s 
too cunning to let me get anything on her. I 
guess she wants the privilege of divorcing me 
for the sake of the alimony.” 

There was a silence after he finished speaking, 
while the only sound in the room was the splut¬ 
tering of the sap on the hearth as it oozed its 
way through the logs into the fire. 

“ That’s all very well,” Peggy said presently, 
with a new, strangely bitter note in her voice, 
“ but what about me — what about my future?” 

“ She’ll divorce me, Peggy. And then I’ll 
marry you. I swear I will.” 

Her lips twisted slightly. 

“ Make an honest woman of me, eh?” 

He came towards her — a look of entreaty in 
his eyes. 

“ Peggy, for God’s sake don’t talk like 
that. You make me feel such a blackguard. 
Can’t you trust me, Peggy? We’ll go travelling 
on the continent; the divorce can go through 
in our absence, and then we’ll be married quietly 
and settle in California — or in France — any¬ 
where you like. Peggy, won’t you believe that 
I’m sincere?” 


CARDS DOWN 


153 


Something in his voice touched her momen¬ 
tarily; she might even have softened towards 
him, had not his wife’s words come b^ck to taunt 
her, “ You’re not the first little girl whom he has 
fascinated.” 

Purposely she hardened her heart. 

“ Why should I believe you?” she asked 
coldly. “ Everything you’ve told me so far has 
been a lie. First you said that the woman who 
spoke to you that night at the Copley Plaza was 
nothing to you. Then, you lead me to believe 
that you wanted to marry me. Oh, I know that 
you said nothing directly, but once, when I spoke 
of our marriage, you didn’t contradict me. Even 
tonight, when you were bringing me out here, 
you told me that you were driving me home. I 
suppose that even the place belongs to you — 
doesn’t it?” 

He nodded curtly and his silence stung her to 
add, “ A very convenient love nest, I suppose, 
to house foolish little girls like me.” 

“ Peggy,” he cried sharply. “ That, at least, 
is not true. I swear that you’re the first girl 
who has ever crossed this threshold. I admit 
I lied about certain things, but it was only to 
make the way easier for you — to save you the 
worry and heartache until your bridges were 


154 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


definitely burned. I’d take you back now only 
it wouldn’t be any use. It’s almost eleven now, 
and we couldn’t be back before morning. Be¬ 
sides, I know that my wife has detectives 
shadowing us; they’d find out that we’d been 
here alone until late tonight. And if we’re going 
to get the mud anyhow, we might as well take 
the pleasure that goes along with it.” 

He paused, waiting for her to speak, but, as 
she didn’t do so, he continued, in a softer tone, 
“ I know that this has all come as a great shock 
to you, Peggy. But you’ll soon see that I did 
the best thing for both our sakes.” 

For the last half hour Peggy’s nerves had been 
strung up to breaking point and now, suddenly, 
the tension snapped. Leaning her head against 
the mantel shelf she started to cry, quietly at 
first, then gradually her sobs increased until 
she became almost hysterical. He went up to 
her and took her gently but firmly by the arm. 

“ Come into the bedroom and rest, Peggy,” he 
said. “ You’re all worn out. You’ll feel better 
about it presently.” 

He led her across the room, through a door, 
into the one bedroom that the bungalow pos¬ 
sessed. In the darkness he crossed to the dress¬ 
ing table and lit the lamp. 


CARDS DOWN 


155 


“ I’ll go out to the car and get my suitcase. 
I put some things in it for you,” he said, as he 
went out of the room, closing the door behind 
him. 


CHAPTER XVII 


The Escape 

Alone in the bedroom, Peggy looked around 
her. It was a wide room, sparsely furnished, 
with a low ceiling and a bare wooden floor, upon 
which soft rugs had been flung. The only furni¬ 
ture was a large, four-poster bed, a dressing 
table and an easy chair. Peggy moved slowly 
over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. 
Her fit of hysteria had exhausted her. She felt 
weak and trembling. For some reason her brain 
seemed to have become numb. She sat there as 
in a stupor; incapable of action. 

Her whole world seemed to lie in ruins about 
her. The man she loved had betrayed her trust. 
Pie had lied to her about everything, perhaps 
even, he had lied when he had said that he loved 
her. Wasn’t it probable that to him she was 
just one of the many pretty, foolish little girls 
whom the woman in black — his wife— had 
referred to so scornfully? 

The thought made a fresh lump rise in her 
throat but, resolutely, she fought it back. This 
was no time for tears — she must think — act. 

156 


THE ESCAPE 


1 


A soft tap and the door opened slightly. 

“ Here are the things that I brought for you, 
Peggy,” came Doug’s voice. “ May I come in?” 

He hesitated on the threshold and, as she 
didn’t reply, he pushed open the door and came 
into the room. 

At the sight of her white, tense face, a look of 
pain came into his own. 

“ Peggy, dear. Don’t look like that,” he 
pleaded. “ It hurts me — terribly. You know 
I’d do anything to make you happy, except give 
you up. And I can’t do that, little Peggy.” 

He stood looking at her — all his love for her 
apparent in his eyes and then, slowly, he came 
over to her side and put his arms about her. She 
stiffened perceptibly. 

“ Please leave me alone,” she said. 

He released her immediately. 

“ I’ll be in the next room. Call me if you 
want anything,” he said. 

After he had gone, she sat quite still for some 
minutes, staring into space then, getting up, she 
crossed to the dressing table and began fingering 
the things he had brought in to her. 

A brush and comb; other toilet accessories; a 
night gown of sheer silk — her face burned sud¬ 
denly. How dare he be so sure of her! How 


PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


iare he! In that moment she told herself that 
she hated him, loathed him, despised him. Her 
anger whipped her to a sudden desire for action 
— a determination to escape. Softly she crossed 
to the window. Pulling it open, she leaned out. 
By the faint light of a clouded moon she saw 
that there was a six-foot drop to the ground. 
Escape, then, was simple! 

Without losing a minute she climbed noise¬ 
lessly onto the window sill and lowered herself 
to the ground. She stood still for a moment, 
breathing rapidly, wondering if Doug could have 
heard her. Then, as no sound came from the 
bungalow, she began to run through the bushes 
towards the road. 

The night air was cold; Peggy shivered as she 
felt the chill breeze cutting against her arms 
through the thin muslin of her frock. 

Reaching the road, she started to walk, at a 
brisk, even pace, hoping that she was going in 
the direction of Boston. For some time she kept 
it up and then, gradually, she began to tire. The 
rough road hurt her feet through the thin, pump 
soles of her shoes, the night seemed to have 
become darker. Clouds now completely ob¬ 
scured the moon. She glanced round apprehen¬ 
sively. Ugly forms seemed to take shape from 


THE ESCAPE 


159 


the low-lying bushes by the side of the road — 
the young trees looked like spectres stretching 
long, bony arms to heaven. She suddenly felt 
afraid and very much alone. 

To her it all seemed like a hideous night¬ 
mare — that scene in the hut — even now she 
could hardly believe that Doug had lied to her, 
that he had deliberately forced her into a com¬ 
promising situation. He had always been so 
kind and considerate — so dear. She had loved 
him so. 

A big tear splashed down onto her cheek — 
then another, then another. She suddenly 
realized that she was crying. 

She was very tired now, and she began to wish 
that she might come upon some house where she 
could get shelter for the night. Everything 
around her was in darkness but, at last, she saw 
a tiny light coming from the bottom of a hill 
that sloped down from the road. She deter¬ 
mined to investigate, hoping that it might be 
a house and in it she might find some woman to 
whom she could explain the strange circum¬ 
stances that had brought her to their doorstep. 

As she came closer, she saw that it was a 
camp; a man’s camp. There were several tents 
clustered closely together; the flap of one of 


160 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


them was up and the light streaming through the 
opening illuminated the surrounding land until 
it merged in with the darkness. 

She crept closer and, in doing so, she stumbled 
over a tent peg, bringing herself to the ground 
with a crash. She wasn’t hurt, but as she got 
up she heard a sound like someone moving in 
the tent, and the next moment a man’s figure 
appeared in the doorway. 

“ Who’s there?” he called sharply. 

Peggy hesitated, uncertain what to do. The 
man was quite young, 'she saw, fair and of 
medium height, and he wore a coat, hastily 
thrown over his pajamas. 

Presently, his eyes growing accustomed to the 
darkness, he caught sight of Peggy as she came 
slowly towards him. 

He stared at her for a moment, speechless, 
then, “ Great heavens,” he ejaculated. “ A girl 
here!” 

“ Yes,” said Peggy and, in spite of everything, 
she couldn’t help smiling at his obvious astonish¬ 
ment. “ I’m afraid I’m hopelessly lost. I saw 
your light and I thought that it might be a house 
where I could get shelter for the night.” 

The man appeared somewhat at a loss. 

“ I’m sorry,” he said, “ but we’re camping out 


THE ESCAPE 


161 


— a bunch of fellows-” Then, as Peggy 

turned to go, he exclaimed, “ But you can’t 
possibly go on wandering around by yourself 
at this hour of the night. Where are you from?” 

“ Boston,” said Peggy. 

“ Boston! That’s queer. So are we. We’re 
a crowd of Tech fellows.” 

Peggy prayed silently that there were none 
there who would recognize her. For her 
brother’s sake, as well as her own, she didn’t 
want her escapade to get around Technology. 

“ Come inside, won’t you?” he said, diffi¬ 
dently. “ There’s no one here except me. The 
rest of the fellows are sleeping out. I couldn’t 
sleep myself so I came in to read.” 

Peggy followed him into the tent. She sud¬ 
denly felt very tired; a black film seemed to be 
rising up before her eyes; she swayed slightly 
and leant against the canvas of the tent to steady 
herself. 

“ I say, you’re not going to faint, are you?” 
he said, in sudden alarm. “ Let me get you 
some water or something. Sit down here.” 

He helped her onto a camp stool and stood 
looking down at her with a perplexed frown. It 
was clear that this was a situation completely 
beyond him. 



162 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


He was a nice boy — thoroughly nice, the 
sort who has sisters of his own and remembers 
this fact in dealing with other men’s women. 

He fetched her some water and she thanked 
him with a faint smile. 

“ I’m really quite all right,” she told him. 
“ Just tired — that’s all.” 

She leant her head back against the canvas 
and closed her eyes. She felt too weary to talk 
— too tired to worry any more about the future. 

In the lamplight she looked unnaturally white 
and the boy noticed that there were tear stains 
on her cheeks. He wondered what fate had 
brought the strange girl to their camp — would 
have liked to have asked her, but a certain innate 
chivalry kept him silent. 

“ I’ve been thinking,” he remarked presently, 
“ one of our fellows has a flivver and I could 
get him to take you into Boston tomorrow. 
I’ll speak to him about it now. Why don’t you 
lie down on my bunk and try and get a bit 
of sleep? You look all done in. I’ll wake you 
in good time so that you can get an early 
start. I guess you’d rather be off before the 
boys are up and about?” 

Peggy nodded. 

And then, after a moment’s pause, “ It’s really 


THE ESCAPE 


163 


awfully nice of you. I don’t know quite how 
to thank you.” 

“ Oh, chuck it,” he smiled awkwardly. “ Only 
too glad to be of any use. But what beats me 

-” he broke off abruptly. “ Well, anyhow, 

I hope you get some sleep. Good night.” 

“ But what about you?” asked Peggy. “ I 
hate turning you out like this.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” he assured her, “ I’ll 
go and bunk in with one of the boys.” 

After he had gone, Peggy flung herself on the 
mattress, without attempting to undress. Her 
pink muslin frock, that had looked so fresh 
and sweet the morning before, now clung 
crumpled about her like the crushed petals of 
a rose. 

She rolled herself in a blanket and soon, 
utterly exhausted, she fell asleep. 

Max Herron, the boy she had spoken to the 
night before, called her in the morning, just 
after sunrise. 

“ I’ve brought you some fresh water,” he said, 
“ and I’m cooking some eggs and bacon. They’ll 
be ready in a jiffy. It’s all settled. The fellow 
I told you about is going to drive you into 
Boston. He’s bringing round the flivver now.” 

Peggy bathed her face and hands and 



164 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


straightened her hair as well as she could before 
emerging from the tent. She had a strange 
feeling of unreality. The events of the past 
night — the strangeness of her present surround¬ 
ings — she accepted them all in a daze. Surely 
it couldn’t be she — Peggy Mason — to whom 
all this had happened! It seemed well nigh 
incredible. 

The east was aflame with crimson as she 
stepped out into the crisp morning air. A wel¬ 
come smell of eggs frying drew her in the direc¬ 
tion of a nearby tent. As she approached she 
saw two men standing over a small oil stove. 
Even in the half light the figure of one of them 
struck her as familiar. 

“ Come in, Miss- I don’t think I know 

your name,” called Max Herron. “ Meet my 
chum — the one I was telling you about-” 

The man to whom he referred looked up, 
suddenly, and, as he did so, Peggy gave a little 
cry, for she found herself staring into the face 
of her one-time lover — Joe. 




CHAPTER XVIII 
Joe Takes A Hand 

Max Herron looked from one to the other in 
surprise. 

“ I see you’re already acquainted,” he said. 

Joe had by now recovered slightly from his 
astonishment. 

“ Oh, yes, we’ve met,” he said, in a quietly 
ironical tone. 

Peggy felt strangely limp. Of all men in the 
world, Joe Brinton was about the last she could 
have wished to have seen at that moment. She 
wondered what irony of fate had sent the very 
man whom she had thrown over when she first 
went to live on Beacon Hill, to help rescue her 
from her present predicament. 

“ Well, Peggy,” said Joe presently, when Max 
had gone, leaving them alone, “ you don’t seem 
mighty pleased to see me.” 

“ Yes, I am, Joe,” said Peggy, hesitantly. 
“ But well — it’s queer, isn’t it?” 

Joe nodded as he handed her a plate of eggs 
and bacon. They ate practically in silence. 

165 


166 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Both were conscious of a certain tension, a strain 
in the atmosphere. 

Presently Max Herron reappeared with a coat. 

“ You’d better wear this jacket of mine,” he 
said to Peggy. “ You’ll probably find it pretty 
nippy driving at this hour of the morning.” 

Peggy accepted it gratefully and, when they 
had finished, Joe said curtly, “ Well, if you’re 
ready, Peggy, we’ll be pushing off.” 

She said good-bye to Max Herron outside the 
tent. He had been awfully kind to her, she was 
sorry to see the last of him. Indeed, she wished 
that it might have been he and not Joe who was 
going to drive her into Boston. 

The flivver was waiting for them on the road, 
and Joe helped Peggy into it. 

“ Quite like old times, eh?” he remarked, as 
he started the engine. 

Peggy didn’t reply, but settled herself back in 
a corner. All around her the scenery was superb. 
In the first glow of morning the mountains had a 
spiritual beauty that inspired one almost to 
reverence. Peggy watched the light creep down 
over trees and shrubs like a soft, pink cloud; 
watched that in its turn fade to yellow and then 
to white, until the whole world seemed like a 
glowing, sparkling diamond. 


JOE TAKES A HAND 


167 


The beauty all around her made her feel 
strangely humble, and impulsively she turned 
to Joe. 

“ You must hate me for dragging you away 
from your chums like this. I guess Fve com¬ 
pletely spoilt your week-end.” 

“ That doesn’t matter. The whole situation 
rather appeals to my sense of humor — although 
you always assured me that I never had one.” 

The tone of his voice annoyed her and she 
shrugged her shoulders. 

“ If you feel that way about it-” she said, 

turning away from him. 

They drove on for some time without speak¬ 
ing. A sense of depression had settled on Peggy. 
Mentally she couldn’t help contrasting the hard¬ 
ness of the flivver seat with the soft comfort 
of Doug Wyman’s specially upholstered Stutz 
roadster. She pulled herself up sharply. For 
the sake of her peace of mind she had determined 
not to allow herself to think of him. The hurt 
was too recent — the pain of it too great. Even 
now she could scarcely believe that the events of 
the night before were not some part of a horrid, 
improbable nightmare. That Doug Wyman 
should have deliberately forced her into such a 
situation — Doug, who had sworn that he loved 



168 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


her before all things; whose love she had 
returned. 

As though to drive him from her mind she 
glanced towards Joe’s good-looking profile, with 
its blunt, regular features. She tried to tell 
herself that she was a fool ever to have thrown 
him over — he was so solid — so dependable. 
Perhaps even now it wasn’t too late. She’d let 
Doug see how little he meant to her really. With 
pride driving her on, she tried once more to make 
her peace with Joe. 

“ I guess you’re wondering how all this 
happened, Joe,” she ventured. “ Must have 
been a bit of a shock to you when you saw me 
first this morning.” 

“ I’ll admit that it was,” he said, without so 
much as glancing in her direction. “ But, think¬ 
ing it over, I’m not altogether surprised. I 
always thought that you’d land yourself in some 
tough situation when you started running around 
with that crowd on the Hill. Bohemians, they 
call themselves! Ugh! A lot of wasters-” 

“ Don’t say that, Joe,” said Peggy sharply. 
“ They’ve been awful dears to me. They haven’t 
your ideas about living, but that doesn’t say that 
you’re any better than they are. Really, they’re 
fine friends.” 



JOE TAKES A HAND 


169 


“ I suppose it was one of your so-called fine 
friends who is responsible for your present pre¬ 
dicament,” he said stolidly. 

Peggy’s cheeks flamed crimson. It was true 
enough but, oh!—how she loathed to admit it. 

“ I don’t want to appear inquisitive,” he said, 
as she made no attempt to reply. “ And don’t 
think that you need tell me anything you don’t 
want to. But you can’t expect me to swallow 
that yarn you told Max about getting separated 
from an automobile picnic party and losing the 
way. I know you’re not such a fool as all that, 
Peg.” 

There was a short pause and, although Joe 
was staring at the road straight ahead of him, 
Peggy sensed that he was eager for her to tell 
him what had brought her to seek shelter at the 
boys’ camp in the early hours of the morning. 

And, in the end, although she was strangely 
reluctant to do so, Peggy gave him. the story. 
After all, she argued, he had always been a good 
friend to her and, as she had spoilt his week-end, 
perhaps it gave him a sort of right to know. 

She told him in short, plain sentences but, 
even though she tried to keep the emotion out 
of her voice, occasionally she could not prevent 
it trembling and, once, when she was describing 


170 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


to him the scene that had taken place inside the 
hut, her voice broke altogether and she paused, 
fighting to gain control of herself. 

Two things she kept from him — Doug 
Wyman’s name and her own love for him. 
Joe didn’t speak for a moment after she had 
finished but, presently, turning towards her, 
with a new gentleness in his voice, he said: 

“ You poor kid.” And, a moment later, he 
added, in a different tone, “ I’d like to lay my 
hands on that man — I’d teach him a thing 
or two, the damned swine!” 

“ Don’t, Jqe, you mustn’t say that!” 

The cry seemed to have been wrung almost 
unwillingly from Peggy. She had not intended 
to speak and yet, in spite of herself, the words 
had come. 

“ Why not?” asked Joe, fiercely. “ You don’t 
mean to say, Peggy, that you’d stick up for 
the man?” 

“ Oh, no,” she answered quickly. “ No. I 

don’t know why I said that, Joe-” She 

lapsed into silence. 

Joe was right, she told herself. Doug prob¬ 
ably was — what Joe had called him. And 

yet-Against her will, almost, a vision of 

Doug’s face rose up before her. Vividly she 




JOE TAKES A HAND 


171 


recalled his sharp, clear-cut features; his mouth, 
with the slightly cynical twist, and, again, she 
saw, too, the look of pain in his eyes when she 
had turned upon him in the living room of the 
hut. 

Joe was moralizing, half aloud, half to him¬ 
self. “ It’s men like him who are responsible 
for all the women on the streets/’ he was saying. 
“ His sort never think of a girl’s future — just 
their own selfish pleasure. Love! Bah! They 
don’t know what the word means. They think 
that their money will compensate a woman for 
the lack of a decent home and the children that 
are hers by right. Lucky for you, Peggy, that you 
escaped in time. He didn’t love you — couldn’t 
have, or else he would have let you alone. A 
married man who’s decent doesn’t run around 
after other girls — let alone take them off for 
the week-end on the pretense that they’re just 
going on a day’s outing. Do you know, Peggy, 
that he could be had up for that?” 

Peggy suddenly felt that, if he didn’t stop, she 
would scream. Moralizing — cheap clap-trap 
moralizing. The kind she’d heard all her life — 
the kind that can be had by the yard in any 
bad sermon. Couldn’t he understand, anyhow, 
that she didn’t want to talk about it? Couldn’t 


172 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


he realize that the kindest thing he could do was 
to allow her to forget? 

“ I hear your father’s struck lucky, Joe,” 
she said, deliberately breaking in upon him. 

Joe’s eyes suddenly shone. 

“ Yes. They’ve found oil on the old boy’s 
land. Of course we don’t know yet how much 
it’ll be worth. They’d just started pumping 
when I heard last. But it shouldn’t be long 
now before I buy a Buick. Dad’s planning on 
retiring from the factory and taking a trip east 
in a month or so.” 

“ I’m so glad, Joe,” said Peggy. “ It’s fine 
for you. Jack told me about it some weeks 
ago.” 

“ I know. And I sent you a message by him 
and got the cold shoulder in reply. I guess at 
that time you were so busy chasing round with 
your fine Mr. Married Man that you turned up 
your little snub nose at the very thought of 
me,” and he laughed somewhat harshly. “ At 
any rate,” he added, in a lower tone, “ this has 
taught you some lesson, eh, Peg?” 

Peggy nodded slowly and, although in her 
heart she resented his words, she didn’t allow 
him to see it. 

They had lunch at a quaint little inn on their 


JOE TAKES A HAND 


173 


way into Boston and it was late in the after¬ 
noon before they finally pulled up before Maple 
Place, on Beacon Hill. Peggy had felt that she 
wanted to talk to Fifi before returning to the 
Coffee House. 

She and Joe were standing together on the 
sloping pavement, before the open door of the 
flivver while, all around them, laughing, grubby 
kiddies stopped in their play to stare at them. 

“ It’s been mightly decent of you, Joe-” 

Peggy began, hesitatingly, purposely avoiding 
his eyes. 

“ Nonsense, Peggy,” he said, gazing down at 
her with something besides friendship in his gaze. 
“ You know I’d do a lot for you. And I’m 

sorry if I was rude this morning, but- Well, 

I guess you know that you let me down pretty 
hard some months ago. Look here, Peggy, I’m 
coming round to the Coffee House to see you 
tomorrow evening. Sure thing, I am, and if 
you’re not there I’m going to sit right on the 
spot and wait until you come in again.” 




CHAPTER XIX 
Peggy Learns Some News 

“ Well, you made your decision/’ said Fifi. 
“ It’s just as well you found out in time that 
you didn’t really love him.” 

All the while Peggy had been talking, Fifi 
had been wandering about the room with her 
peculiar swaying motion, but now she paused by 
the mantel shelf and stood looking at the girl 
with friendly, searching eyes. 

“ But I did love him, Fifi. I swear to you I 
did.” 

Fifi shrugged her shoulders. 

“ You probably only thought you did, Peggy. 
You’re very young. You just needed a shock 
like that to make you realize your mistake.” 

Peggy got up from the couch and crossed over 
to Fifi. She had come to her expecting under¬ 
standing and sympathy, instead, Fifi didn’t seem 
to appreciate her feelings at all. 

“ I don’t understand you, Fifi,” she said. 
“ Surely you must see that, however much I 

loved him, I couldn’t possibly-” 

174 



PEGGY LEARNS SOME NEWS 175 


She hesitated, hoping that it would not be 
necessary for her to continue. 

Fifi put a cigarette between her lips. 

“ Why?” she asked, as she struck a match to 
light it. 

A sudden anger glowed in Peggy’s eyes. 

“ But, Fifi, you must see that if he really 
loved me he wouldn’t have placed me in such 
a situation. He would have thought of my good 
name — he would-” 

She broke off abruptly, suddenly conscious 
that she was reiterating the very remarks that 
Joe had made to her earlier that day. The same 
remarks that she, herself, had mentally con¬ 
demned as cheap, clap-trap moralizing. 

She suddenly cried out, “ Oft, Fifi, if you only 
knew how miserable I am. Tell me what you 
think I should have done.” 

Fifi crossed over to her and put an arm about 
the girl’s shoulders. 

“ Poor child,” she said. “ You shouldn’t ask 
me. My ideas on that subject are rather warped. 
I suppose what you said is right, in its way. 
It’s certainly the conventional idea of things. 
But, you see, I look upon these matters differ¬ 
ently. I don’t care a fig for conventions — I’ve 
learnt how hollow they are,” 



176 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


She drew Peggy over to the sofa. 

“ Peggy child/’ she continued gently, “ all the 
big things of life call for sacrifices. To get 
anything worth while, generally means that 
you’ve got to give up something else that you 
care about. It’s all a question of values. Evi¬ 
dently your reputation meant more to you than 
Doug’s love-” 

“ Oh, no — no,” Peggy said quickly. “ Don’t 
put it like that, Fifi. If he hadn’t lied to me in 
the first place. If he’d only told me before that 
he was married — Fifi, you must admit that it 
was a terrible situation to put any girl in.” 

Fifi nodded. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ but, Peggy, don’t you think 
that you yourself made it unnecessarily melo¬ 
dramatic? I’m sure that if you’d asked Doug 
to take you home and had been firm enough 
about it, he would have done so. The trouble 
was that you lost your head. Probably you’ve 
spent too much time at the movies lately. The 
situation was one you recognized. The little, 
innocent heroine and the wicked married man 
who had lead her on, stranded alone in a bunga-' 
low. Quite sensational, your escape through the 
window. Just the very thing, I’m sure, that 
Mary Pickford would have done under the same 



PEGGY LEARNS SOME NEWS 177 


circumstances,” and she laughed as she flicked 
the ash off her cigarette, “ but you see, Peggy, 
I’ve found that in life there are no set types 
such as villain and hero. At this very moment 
I guess that your bold, bad villain is probably 
more miserable than you are — genuinely miser¬ 
able because I’m sure that he loved you. A real 
live hero without a dash of villain in him to 
balance his virtues, would bore you stiff in ten 
minutes. I know he would me. And the worst 
blackguard is generally devoted to somebody — 
even if it’s only his dog. And I positively refuse 
to believe that Doug’s a villain. He’s just an 
ordinary human being who made a desperate 
bid for his happiness and lost.” 

There was a silence after she had finished 
speaking. The afternoon light was waning. 
Already long shadows were creeping up the walls, 
encroaching on the quaint Italian paintings. 

“Then you think I should have stayed?” 
Peggy whispered presently. 

“ Not if you didn’t think it was right. But 
had it been Jim-” 

“Yes?” 

“ I would have stayed. You see, I set an 
enormous value on happiness — real happiness. 
Everything else is hollow beside it, and it isn’t 



178 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


as if you would have been hurting anyone else. 
You say that his wife doesn’t care about him —” 

Fifi insisted upon Peggy spending the night 
with them. After she had put out the lights 
Peggy lay alone in the moonlit darkness, thinking 
many things. Fifi’s words — Joe and of his 
promise to come back on the morrow. Doug’s 
eyes as she had last seen them with the look of 
pain in them — no — no, she mustn’t think of 
that. 

In spite of what Fifi had said, Peggy told her¬ 
self that she could never forgive Doug for having 
deceived her. Deliberately he had told her that 
the woman in black was nothing to him. Besides, 
Fifi didn’t know what his wife had said to Peggy 
that night in the Coffee House. What was it? 
Something about Peggy being but one of the 
many, foolish little girls he’d played with-. 

She clenched her hands in the darkness. Well, 
she was done with him now, she’d fight against 
her love for him, conquer it— crush it out — 
she must. 

Surely it was dead already. Her brain 
clouded. Fifi was talking. What was she say¬ 
ing? They were driving in a car — but, of 
course, it wasn’t Fifi, it was Joe. Joe with his 
slow awkwardness. Then there came a whisper, 



PEGGY LEARNS SOME NEWS 179 


softer than a caress, “ Little Peggy.”— Gray 
eyes with love and pain in them. Peggy fell 
asleep. 

Peggy was very busy at the Coffee House the 
greater part of the next day. She was short 
handed as Jenny Howard was spending the 
week-end in New York and was not expected 
back until that evening. At four-thirty Fifi 
came to relieve her. Peggy glanced round appre¬ 
hensively. Joe should turn up at any moment 
now and, somehow, Peggy felt that she didn’t 
want to see him. At least, not then. She wanted 
to walk — to think things out first. 

She took her hat and made her way to Beacon 
Street. She loved wandering past its fine old 
houses that faced the Common and watching 
the sunlight strike the purple glass in some of 
the front windows. At the State House she 
crossed onto the Common. 

Men and women, just leaving offices, were 
bustling homeward across the paths; couples — 
in the springtime of love, sat on the wooden 
seats, laughing and chatting together with eyes 
only for each other. Peggy suddenly felt very 
much alone. She made an attractive picture as 
she wandered aimlessly along in a blue checked 
gingham frock with a soft straw hat. She was 


180 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


delightfully slim and there was something so 
free and lissome about her movements. 

Several men turned and stared in her direc¬ 
tion. But, if Peggy was aware of their glances, 
she paid no heed to them. She was too occu¬ 
pied with her thoughts. 

“ Hullo, Peg o’ My Heart.” 

A man was standing, barring her path. Peggy 
looked at him for a moment before she succeeded 
in placing him. It was Harry Glin. 

She hadn’t seen him since the night of the 
studio party, when Doug had taken her away, 
and they had motored out past Marblehead. It 
was on their return journey to breakfast in his 
apartment that they had watched the dawn 
break over Revere Beach. The memory sent 
a sudden stab of pain to her heart- 

“ Oh, hullo,” she replied, casually enough. 

“ And what has sweet Peg been doing with 
herself all this time?” he asked with a smile. 

She shrugged her shoulders. 

“ Nothing much,” she returned. Then, “ I 
haven’t seen you at the Coffee House lately.” 

“ No. I’ve been in New York. And I had 
some time there, I’ll tell the world. If I was 
sober once it wasn’t my fault. They certainly 
know how to get the right stuff there. By the 



PEGGY LEARNS SOME NEWS 181 


way, Peggy, how about coming with me to a 
fancy dress dance on Wednesday night?” 

Peggy's first impulse was to refuse outright. 
She had never cared for Glin and yet, she argued, 
wasn’t it better to do anything that might help 
her to forget? Besides, she had heard that it 
was going to be a great dance. Fifi and Jim 
were going. 

“ Clive’s taking Jenny, so, if you come, we’ll 
all trot along together. Now be a sport, Peggy, 
and say yes.” 

Never had Peggy felt less like going to a dance. 
But, what was the use of moping around and 
worrying? She was a fool to care- 

“ Thanks, I’ll come,” she replied. 

“ That’s a promise. I’ll be round about 
eight.” 

When she returned to the Coffee House her 
brother and Joe were already seated at one of 
the little green tables, being entertained by 
Jenny, who had returned, in the meanwhile, from 
New York. Peggy joined the group, forcing 
herself to be gay and join in with the general 
merriment. Joe appeared in fine spirits — once 
he caught her hand and squeezed it under the 
table. 

“ Jenny and I are going to the movies,” an- 



182 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


nounced Jack presently. “ How about you two 
coming along with us?” 

“ I’m sorry,” said Peggy, “ I’ve got to go on 
duty in half an hour. But there’s no reason why 
you shouldn’t go, Joe.” 

“ Listen to her!” laughed Joe. “ I’ll tell you, 
Peggy, I’m staying right here with you.” 

As Jenny was leaving the table, she whispered 
in Peggy’s ear, “ Come outside a moment, Peggy, 
I’ve got some news that may interest you.” 

Jenny lead the way into the pantry, which was 
temporarily deserted. 

“ I’ve often wanted to ask you, Peggy,” she 
said, “ if you know the identity of that woman 
who visited me here one night about a week 
ago? The one who spoke to you about Doug 
Wyman?” 

Peggy felt a tightening sensation in her throat. 
But, without looking at Jenny, she managed to 
answer calmly: 

“ Yes, she was his wife.” 

“ Know anything more?” asked Jenny and, 
as Peggy shook her head, Jenny said slowly: 

“ She was found murdered in a roadhouse 
between here and New York, late last Saturday 
night.” 


CHAPTER XX 
White Diamonds 

Peggy stared at Jenny for a moment without 
speaking. 

“ Murdered!” she repeated dully. 

Jenny nodded. 

“Pm surprised you haven’t heard. New 
York’s simply buzzin’ with it. Especially all 
the old crowd who knew her.” 

“ I haven’t looked at a paper for days,” said 
Peggy. 

“ Then that accounts for your not having 
heard,” returned Jenny. “ I tell you, it’s quite a 
sensation. It appears that she took a room at a 
roadhouse, just outside New London. She 
arrived fairly late at night and told the clerk that 
she was expecting her husband and to send him 
up when he arrived. She retired about eleven 
and, shortly afterwards, a man, asking for her, 
was shown to her room. Presently she rang 
down and ordered supper for both of them to 
be sent up in half an hour’s time. When the 
waiter arrived with it he knocked several times 
without receiving a reply. He tried the handle 
and found the door locked. He then says that 
183 


184 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


he began to grow suspicious and woke the man¬ 
ager of the place. Together they knocked for 
about fifteen minutes, after which they had the 
door smashed in. They found her lying on the 
bed — strangled. There was no sign of the 
man.” 

There was a moment’s silence. 

“ How horrible,” murmured Peggy, in an awed 
voice. “ Have they caught him yet?” 

“Him — who?” asked Jenny sharply. 

“ Why, the man who murdered her.” 

Jenny shook her head. 

“ They don’t know who he is — or, they didn’t 
when the latest editions went to print. At least, 
no arrest has been made yet.” 

“You say it happened Saturday night?” asked 
Peggy. 

“Yes, they’ve timed it about eleven thirty. 
The body was still warm when they entered the 
room.” 

Peggy shuddered. 

“ You’re always reading about murders in 
the papers,” she said, “ but you don’t seem to 
realize one unless you’ve actually met the person. 
I can’t say that I liked her, Jenny, but I’m 
mighty sorry for her.” 

“ Poor Gloria,” murmured Jenny. “ She was 


WHITE DIAMONDS 


185 


pretty tough, but I never thought that she’d 
come to an end like that.” And, a moment later, 
she added, slowly, “ I should say that it is a 
pretty bad lookout for Doug.” 

Something in her tone made Peggy look up 
quickly. 

“ You mean that it will be a shock for him? 
I suppose so, although it’s not as if they cared 
for one another. He’s told me that they haven’t 
lived together for years.” 

Jenny looked at her queerly. 

“ I didn’t mean that,” she said. 

She was silent a moment, drumming with her 
fingers on the window ledge. Then she turned 
swiftly towards Peggy. 

“ You don’t think, Peggy, that Doug had 
anything to do with it?” 

Peggy stared back at her in amazement. 
“ Why, what do you mean, Jenny? I’m quite 
sure that he hadn’t.” 

Jenny’s tone was slightly ironical. 

“ Well, if you’re so sure about it, there’s 
nothing more to be said.” 

She moved towards the door. 

“ I must go across the way and get on my 
hat or else Jack will be cursing me to blazes for 
keeping him waiting.” 


186 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Later, when Peggy joined Joe, the tragedy was 
still on her mind. 

“ Smile, Peg,” he said. “ Why are you looking 
so darned miserable? It’s not much of a wel¬ 
come for me.” 

“ I’m sorry,” said Peggy. “ I’ll try to do 
better in future. How are things with you, 
today, Joe?” 

He smiled, as he brought a letter out of his 
pocket. 

“ Couldn’t be better,” he said. “ I had a 
letter from dad this morning. He tells me to 
go ahead and buy the Buick. Listen, Peg, what 
about coming down one morning this week and 
helping me choose it?” 

Peggy nodded absently. 

“ I’d like to,” she said. 

Joe’s eyes sparkled. 

“ That’s fine,” he replied. “ But, see here, 
Peg, that wasn’t all that the old boy said. He 
wants to know how I’d like to take a trip to 
Europe this summer?” 

Peggy looked up at him. 

“ But that’ll be wonderful for you, Joe. 
You’d be a fool not to take advantage of the 
offer.” 

“ Daresay I would. But, do you know, Peggy, 


WHITE DIAMONDS 


187 


I kind of figure that it wouldn’t be much fun 
for me going by myself. There’s not much 
excitement in sight-seeing all on your own. 
Imagine being stranded in Venice with nothing 
more inspiring than a guide book! Or, sitting 
in a French cabaret without having a girl of 
your own to dance with. No, Peg, I’m staying 
right here, unless — well, unless, I could per¬ 
suade a certain little girl I know to let me take 
her there on a honeymoon trip.” 

He had dropped his voice towards the end of 
the sentence and, as he finished speaking, his 
hand sought Peggy’s under the table. A faint 
color had come into her cheeks, but she sat 
without speaking, idly tracing patterns with a 
fork on the table cloth. 

Europe, Venice, Paris — the places she’d 
longed to visit. The places that, when Doug 
had spoken of them, seemed just to breathe 
romance. She wondered, now, why they didn’t 
appeal to her. Why the very thought of them 
left her cold. 

Six o’clock struck and Peggy jumped to her 
feet. 

“ Goodness,” she cried. “ I should be on 
duty.” 

For the next hour or so she saw little of Joe. 


188 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


She brought him his dinner and he sat there, 
eating slowly, staring round him most of the 
time. When she finally joined him he remarked, 
“ Beats me, Peggy what you see in this bunch. 
Doesn’t look to me as though there was a regular 
fellow amongst them.” 

His scornful glance swept the crowd of diners. 
The men, for the most part, with loose jackets 
and flowing ties and hair slightly longer than is 
customary. The women, with bobbed locks, 
white faces and scarlet lips, incessantly smoking 
cigarettes. 

“ You don’t know them, Joe,” Peggy defended. 
“ They’re really awfully interesting. Some of 
them write plays. A man I know was reading 
me his latest the other night. It sounded very 
clever although, I must confess, that I didn’t 
understand much of it. It was fearfully tragic, 
though — all the characters either died or went 
insane in the end. Others of the crowd paint, 
draw, or do sculpture.” 

“ And do you mean that they earn their living 
at those things?” Joe demanded, incredulously. 
’ Peggy’s eyes twinkled suddenly. 

“ I don’t believe that they do,” she whispered. 
“I’ve heard that some of them work in offices 
and shops. But they don’t like that to be men- 


WHITE DIAMONDS 


189 


tioned. You know, they consider ordinary work 
beneath them. They look upon it merely as a 
stepping stone until they become famous at their 
art.” 

Joe grunted. 

“ Why ever don’t you have the place decently 
lighted?” he asked presently. 

“ Our customers prefer the candles. I’m 
afraid you haven’t the artistic temperament, 
Joe,” smiled Peggy. 

“ If this crowd’s a sample, then heaven pre¬ 
serve me from it,” said Joe. 

He lingered on after the others had gone and, 
when he was saying good night to her in the cor¬ 
ridor, he whispered: 

“ Peggy girl, let’s forget these last few months 
and go back to our old happy relationship. I 
always have been gone on you, Peg. You’re the 
only girl in this little old world for me. How 
about it, sweet one?” 

Peggy looked up at him in the dim light of 
the corridor. He seemed very tall and protect¬ 
ing, and she was so miserable and alone. Per¬ 
haps, after a while, she could forget Doug 
altogether — learn to love Joe. He bent forward 
and she allowed him to kiss her but, a moment 
later, she regretted having done so. The memory 


190 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


of another’s lips was too fresh in her mind. It 
hurt her, that kiss. 

Wednesday morning found Peggy walking 
down Boylston Street to meet Joe. He had 
asked her to come into town to help him choose 
his car. Summer sunshine flooded the streets, 
shining through the shop windows where summer 
finery was displayed. Dresses of dainty organ¬ 
die on models that seemed almost lifelike; dresses 
of striped silk and crepe-de-chine for the sea¬ 
side; frocks of finest linen; wide-brimmed hats 
with flowers and flowing ribbons, suggestive of 
garden parties. Peggy loitered before several 
stores. She loved window shopping. She found 
it such fun to pick out the very frock she 
wanted; picture herself in it; primp herself 
before an imaginary mirror, and then pass on 
to the next window. 

Joe met her on the corner of Tremont Street. 

“ Like keeping a fellow waiting, don’t you?” 
he smiled. 

“ Where are we going to look at the car?” 
she asked. 

“ I’ve other business, first,” he said, mysteri¬ 
ously. “ Come into the shop with me, Peg.” 

He led her into an expensive jeweler’s estab¬ 
lishment where, in answer to a well-groomed 


WHITE DIAMONDS 


191 


saleswoman’s deferential inquiry, Joe said, “ I 
want to look at rings. Diamond rings.” 

The young lady beamed. 

“ Certainly, sir. This way, sir.” 

“ But Joe —” Peggy questioned, bewildered. 

“ See here, sweet one,” he said, laughing down 
at her, “ I want you to pick out a fine ring for 
yourself. Get me? I want to make sure of you, 
this time.” 

Peggy found herself standing before a glass 
counter where, on a blue velvet strip, a host of 
diamond rings were displayed. 

Joe was obviously embarrassed; the young 
lady behind the counter smiled on them, secretly 
amused; only Peggy was indifferent. She felt 
as though she were some stuffed puppet, being 
made to dance to the tune of an ironical fate. 

Mechanically she held up her left hand and 
allowed Joe to slip rings onto her finger. 

“ How do you like that one, Peggy?” he 
asked at last. “ I think that’s a dandy.” 

“ Yes,” said Peggy, listlessly, “ it’s pretty.” 

She was looking down at a half hoop of 
diamonds, intermingled with sapphires, set in 
a platinum band. It was pretty, very pretty, 
but, oh, it felt so heavy on her finger. It seemed 
to weigh her down, 


CHAPTER XXI 
At the Fancy Dress Ball 

Peggy sat before the mirror in the little attic 
bedroom of the Coffee House and studied her¬ 
self with critical eyes. 

It was Wednesday night, the night of the 
fancy dress ball, and she was waiting for Harry 
Glin to call for her. She had told Joe about 
it, insisting that, as she had made the date with 
Glin before becoming engaged to him, it was 
up to her to stick to it. And, although Joe 
protested at first, his fear of losing Peggy had 
made him finally give in. 

The reflection in the mirror must have pleased 
Peggy for, quite suddenly, she smiled. She was 
certainly bewitching in a pink rose frock, with 
wired taffeta petals that stood out over an 
underdress of green chiffon. Roses crowned her 
brown-red hair and accentuated her elf-like 
prettiness. Fifi had touched her up — cleverly 
disguising the dark circles that had, of late, 
appeared under Peggy’s eyes, telling of sleep¬ 
less nights. 


192 


AT THE FANCY DRESS BALL 193 


Peggy felt strangely restless; keyed up with 
nervous excitement, as though in anticipation of 
some event which she was half expecting — half 
dreading. She put it down to excitement over 
the dance. 

Across the road she could see a light in Jenny’s 
room and, occasionally, she glimpsed a silhouette 
of the girl as she moved around in her daring 
Apache costume. 

The electric light caught the diamond ring on 
Peggy’s finger and made it sparkle, sending out 
tiny rays of rainbow light into the farthest 
corners of the room. Peggy looked at it with 
a little air of indecision, hesitated, and then 
slipped it from her finger onto the dressing 
table. She would give herself this last night of 
freedom — one more night. 

As she stared at herself in the mirror she was 
wondering why she had ever become engaged to 
Joe. True, he had taken her unawares that 
morning when he had bought the ring, but, what 
had really prompted her consent to the engage¬ 
ment was the burning desire to do whatever lay 
in her power to crush out the memory of Doug 
— of her love for him. 

Voices sounded in the hall and she recognized 
Glin’s and Jenny’s. She switched off the light 


194 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


and ran down the stairs, almost falling into Glin’s 
arms at the bottom. 

“ My — my, isn’t she sweet tonight,” he ex¬ 
claimed, looking down at her. “Like some 
little rosebud just waiting to be plucked.” 

Laughing, he put an arm about her waist and 
drew her towards the others. 

“ Look what a kind Dadda Fate sent me 
tonight,” he said. “ Isn’t she just the cutest 
kid?” 

But Jenny was too occupied with Clive to pay 
any attention to him. She was strikingly hand¬ 
some, Peggy thought, in a black velvet picture 
hat with a draped scarlet gown, slashed to the 
waist, that seemed to cling to every curve of 
her figure. Round her throat was a black velvet 
ribbon which hung in two long streamers and 
was caught at her wrists. 

She moved with Clive into the pantry and, 
through the half-open door, Peggy could see their 
figures clinging together — Glin suddenly caught 
Peggy to him. 

“ Christen the night. Kiss me, sweet Peg,” he 
whispered. 

She hesitated; drew back slightly; then a reck¬ 
less mood overcame her. What did a kiss matter, 
anyway? Wasn’t this her last night of free- 


AT THE FANCY DRESS BALL 195 


dom? She’d enjoy herself — in spite of the dull 
ache in her heart — in spite of her engagement 
to a man she didn’t love. For one night she’d 
forget. 

She kissed him with an ardor that surprised 
him, flattered him. Twice her lips clung to his 
as she lay, unresisting, in his arms. 

“ Not so cold tonight, sweet Peg,” he whis¬ 
pered. “ Time’s melted that little ice-bound 
heart of yours, eh?” 

She fought back a passionate desire to burst 
into peals of hysterical laughter. 

“ Yes, yes,” she cried. “ Time — time-” 

Again he crushed her to him; kissed her throat. 
She closed her eyes and then, suddenly, from 
out of space she seemed to see two eyes staring 
at her — gray eyes, with love and pain in their 
depths. She struggled to be free of Glin and, 
just at that moment, Jenny appeared at the 
pantry door. 

“ Ha, ha,” she cried, her eyes flashing mock¬ 
ingly. “ Look at our little Puritan. Glin, you’ve 
accomplished a miracle.” 

They were soon in a taxi, driving towards the 
hall. Fifi and her party met them at the 
door. 

“ Where’s Jim?” asked Peggy, as, looking 



196 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


round, she failed to discern Fifi’s husband 
amongst the crowd. 

Fifi’s face momentarily clouded. 

“ He’s coming, presently,” she said. 

Inside the hall the ball was in full swing. 
Pierrettes, pierrots, harlequins and clowns, 
danced together in merry confusion. Glin put 
his arms around Peggy and together they wound 
amongst the swaying throng. Peg’s feet seemed 
hardly to touch the floor; the music entered her 
blood — intoxicated her. 

“ Light as thistledown, Peg,” murmured Glin 
in her ear. “ I keep thinking that I’m holding 
a fairy in my arms — keep wondering if she’ll 
be there at the end of the dance-” 

Peggy laughed. 

“ Let’s keep dancing on and on,” she cried. 
“ I feel like Cinderella — with only a short time 
to go before midnight.” 

“ Midnight,” he chaffed her. “ Why, we’re 
going on until early in the morning.” 

Still smiling, she shook her head. 

“ No, I feel it in my bones that, at midnight, 
something will happen.” 

She spoke jestingly and yet, behind her words, 
there lurked the vague apprehension of which 
she had been conscious earlier in the evening. 



AT THE FANCY DRESS BALL 197 


She tried to shake it off; forced an artificial 
gaiety. 

The evening progressed; the music was 
drowning her senses — recklessly driving her 
on. Never had the Red Devil Jazz Band seemed 
in better form. The pianist swayed to and fro 
as he thumped out the melody. The ban joist, 
legs crossed, grinning from ear to ear, sat huddled 
over his instrument, and the man at the drums, 
an absurd paper hat stuck jauntily on the back 
of his head, did weird feats with his drum stick. 
Only the saxophonist stood aloof and dignified 
but, before long, the general atmosphere had 
caught even him in its sway for long before 
midnight he was moving from foot to foot, 
• syncopating with his body to the music. 

“ Lovely — lovely,” cried Peggy, clapping her 
hands as once more the music stopped and she 
and her partner found themselves beside a 
laughing, scintillating Fifi. She seemed a veri¬ 
table spirit from the East that night, in her 
Persian costume with its green and gold brocaded 
trousers, and its little gold jacket. Castanets 
hung from her wrists, and now, as she waited 
for the music to continue, her body swayed to 
the rhythm of an eastern dance she was hum¬ 
ming. Fifi was a dancer born; each movement 


198 PEGGY OF BEACON PULL 


was a delight. Gradually, forgetting the crowd 
around her, she started to dance — a weird, 
eastern dance, to the accompaniment of her 
castanets. A space was cleared for her; word 
was sent to the band, which softly took up her 
melody. It seemed to Peggy as though she had 
suddenly been transplanted by some magic 
carpet to old Bagdad, and was watching a slave 
girl dancing in the open market place- 

“ Fifi’s like a character from the ‘ Arabian 
Nights/ ” Peggy whispered to Glin. “ Watching 
her, I can almost believe in reincarnation.” 

The symbols clashed at the close of the dance; 
the crowd applauded and cheered — delighted 
with the impromptu entertainment. Peggy moved 
forward to congratulate Fifi and, as she did so, 
she caught a glimpse of Jim’s face on the edge 
of the crowd. In the brilliantly lighted hall it 
seemed unnaturally white and there was a grim 
expression about the mouth as, without cere¬ 
mony, he elbowed his way through the crowd 
towards Fifi, and drew her aside. 

The music started once more but, instead of 
dancing, Glin whispered to Peggy, “ Come below 
with me. I’m getting devilish hot.” 

He took her down to the basement, where most 
of the couches spread about the room were 



AT THE FANCY DRESS BALL 199 


already occupied by couples indulging in private 
“ petting ” or drinking parties. 

Glin drew her into a corner and took a flask 
from the pocket of his pirate costume. 

“ All the boys have something on their hips 
tonight,” he whispered. “ It’s going to be some 
party. Don’t be afraid to take a good swig. 
There’s plenty more in my overcoat pocket.” 

But Peggy shook her head. 

“ Not now,” she said. “ Perhaps later.” 

“ Oh, come on, Peg. It’ll buck you up. You 
seem a bit tired. You’ve lost all the pep you 
had at the beginning of the dance.” 

He was right. Her artificial gaiety of the 
early evening had worn off and had left her 
strangely limp and depressed. The scene around 
her suddenly appeared to her a trifle sordid. The 
drinking — the promiscuous petting- 

She looked up at the clock. It was ten minutes 
to twelve. Again that strange sense of impending 
tragedy came over her — she tried to shake it 
off. 

“ Ten more minutes to go,” she said, jestingly. 

“ Ten minutes more — what do you mean?” 

“ Didn’t I tell you that I felt like Cinderella 
tonight,” she smiled, “ that, for me, all this 
gaiety would end at midnight?” 



200 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ Well, if that’s so,” he laughed, “ let these 
ten minutes at least be gay.” 

He pushed the flask into her hand and she 
forced herself to drink. The strong liquid burnt 
her throat and she shuddered slightly as she 
handed it back to him. 

As twelve struck she glanced up, impelled by 
something she could not quite explain and, as she 
did so, she saw Jim Gordon standing at the 
foot of the stairs, obviously searching for some 
one. A moment later he was crossing quickly 
towards them and there was, in his face, that 
same strained look that Peggy had seen there 
some while before. 

“ Go upstairs and look after Fifi, like a good 
fellow,” he said to Glin. “ I want to talk to 
Peggy.” 

He took Glin’s place beside her but, for a 
moment, he didn’t speak. 

The music floated down to them, loud, defiant 
jazz. 

“ I heard some rather bad news tonight, 
Peggy,” he said. “ I couldn’t believe it at first 
so I went round to the police station in order to 
verify it. That’s why I was so late in getting 
here.” 

He paused a moment and fidgeted with his 


AT THE FANCY DRESS BALL 201 


cigarette. Then he added in a lower tone, 
“ Doug Wyman has just been arrested on the 
charge of murdering his wife.” 


CHAPTER XXII 
Peggy Makes a Decision 

“But it’s — it’s ridiculous.” 

Peggy had found her voice at last, but it had a 
harsh, cracked note in it and sounded totally 
unlike Peggy’s normal voice. 

“ Ridiculous or not, the fact remains that 
Doug has been arrested,” said Jim, “ and they 
seem to think that they have a pretty good case 
out against him, too.” 

Peggy was silent a moment, staring into space. 
The animation had all gone out of her face, 
leaving it pale and slightly haggard. Tragedy 
showed in her deep blue eyes that had dark 
circles beneath them. As she sat there in her 
delicate rose costume, that now seemed crumpled 
and soiled, she looked to Jim like some crushed, 
discarded rose, thrown carelessly by the road¬ 
side. 

Impulsively he put out his hand and gripped 
hers. 

“ It’s been a blow to all of us, Peg — Fifi 
and I,” he paused, a lump had risen in his 
202 


PEGGY MAKES A DECISION 203 


throat —“ well, we were rather fond of Doug.” 

The dance music drifted down to them from 
the hall above — gay and insolent. Laughter 
came with it — laughter that seemed to mock 
them. 

“ But it’s ridiculous,” Peggy repeated again. 
“ Absurd. Didn’t the murder,” she shuddered 
slightly over the word, “ take place about eleven 
thirty last Saturday night?” 

Jim nodded. 

“ But at that time Doug was out in the coun¬ 
try — somewhere near the White Mountains — 
in his bungalow — with me,” she spoke almost 
defiantly, “ I suppose Fifi has told you?” 

“ Yes,” said Jim, “ but the police don’t happen 
to know that. And, anyhow, it would have to 
be proved.” 

Peggy bent her head. Her brain was in a 
turmoil. Thoughts, vague and terrible, chased 
themselves across her mind. Doug in a cell, 
friendless, broken-spirited, and yet with the 
same smile — half whimsical, half cynical, still 
twisting his lips. Doug in the dock—the judge 
and jury in their places — the anguish of wait¬ 
ing -No, no, it was too horrible. 

She covered her face with her hands. 

“ Why was he arrested?” she asked presently. 



204 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ They’ve quite a mass of evidence against 
him,” said Jim. “ You see, his wife had told the 
hotel clerk that she was expecting her husband 
and, although, as they hadn’t lived together for 
years, that, in itself, wouldn’t have been very 
damning, the unfortunate part is that Doug 
seems to answer to the hotel clerk’s description 
of the man he showed up to her room. Then 
there’s also the fact that Doug was out of town 
the night of the murder and, when his rooms 
were searched, the police found a note from his 
wife, telling him that she intended spending the 
night at that particular roadhouse, and asking 
him to try and see her there as she had impor¬ 
tant matters to discuss with him.” 

Jim paused, and slowly lit a cigarette. 

“ Of course, with all that they had enough 
to charge him on.” 

Peggy had sat motionless while he had been 
talking, but now, turning towards him, she said 
breathlessly, “ But why didn’t he say where he 
was at the time — prove an alibi?” 

“ He did say that he spent the night in his 
hut in the country, but the police are used to 
men swearing that they were somewhere else at 
the time of a murder. There’s no one to bear 
out his statement except his man servant, who 


PEGGY MAKES A DECISION 205 


went out in the morning to get things prepared, 
and you --” he paused, waiting. 

“ Yes-me,” Peggy whispered. 

“ It won’t be very pleasant for you to have 
to tell your story in court, Peg.” 

“ That doesn’t matter.” 

Then, after a long pause, “ You think it will 
be necessary for me to tell it?” 

Jim dropped his cigarette on the floor and 
slowly crushed it out with his heel. 

“ I’m afraid so. That is, unless you prefer 
to see Doug go to the chair.” 

“ Oh, no — no — no.” It was a cry of anguish 
and horror combined. Another pause. 

“ Will I have to tell them — everything?” 

“ That depends upon yourself, Peggy. What 
will Joe have to say to it?” 

Peggy hesitated. For the time being she had 
completely forgotten Joe, and now she thought 
of him with vague uneasiness. 

“ He won’t like it. But, after all, it can’t 
be helped. It’s my duty, isn’t it?” 

But she knew — and Jim knew — that it 
wasn’t only duty that was driving her on to 
save Doug, even at the expense of her own 
reputation. Perhaps it was the memory of his 
gray eyes looking at her in the firelight, with 




206 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


love and pain in their depths, and a voice, 
hoarse with love for her, murmuring, “ Little 
Peggy.” 

A dance seemed to have ended. Laughing 
couples brushed past them in their search for 
seats. Once more the air hummed with gay, 
insistent chatter. And yet, in that sea of people, 
Peggy felt strangely isolated; almost as though 
she were looking down upon it all from another 
world. 

Jim leant forward and spoke in an earnest, 
low voice. “ You’re sure to get a lot of un¬ 
pleasant publicity, Peggy. That’s unavoidable. 
But I think you can manage to clear Doug and, 
at the same time, save your own reputation. You 
can tell them how you were taken there against 
your wish, the story of your escape through the 
bedroom window — the boys who were at the 
camp will bear you out.” 

Peggy smiled wryly. “ Wouldn’t that be like 
dragging Doug out of the fire, only to throw 
him into the sea to drown?” 

“ Meaning — meaning that, in the eyes of 
the world, he will be a blackguard, a scoundrel?” 

Peggy nodded. 

Jim sat staring into space, clasping and un¬ 
clasping his hands. 


PEGGY MAKES A DECISION 207 


“ It will better than going to the chair,” he 
decided. “ Besides, it doesn’t matter so much 
for a man. And, after all, that’s what you think 
him, isn’t it?” 

Peggy winced, almost as though he had struck 
her. She bit her lip, unable to answer him. 
Well, it was what she had thought him, wasn’t 
it? Then, why did Jim’s words hurt her so 
terribly? 

“ I don’t think that now, Jim,” she whispered, 
“ and I’ll do what I can.” 

He took up her hand as it lay, small and 
white on the couch, and gripped it in a firm hold, 
“ You’re a brick, Peggy,” he murmured. “ It’s 
no small thing to ask you to do.” 

Glin and Fifi came down to join them pres¬ 
ently, and they all went up into the ballroom 
to dance. 

Peggy’s feet felt leaden and, twice, during one 
dance, she stumbled, which surprised Glin, as, 
usually, her footwork was perfect. 

“ Is anything the matter, Peg?” he asked, 
looking into her tired white face. “You look 
sort of sad.” 

She forced a smile. 

“ Oh, it’s nothing,” she said. “ Let’s go on 
dancing.” 


208 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Oh, if only the ball would end! She longed 
to go home to the seclusion of her little bed¬ 
room and fling herself on the bed and think. 
She wanted to ask Glin to take her home and 
yet she hated to spoil his evening. After all, 
he had paid for the tickets and he had done his 
utmost for her enjoyment. It would seem so 
ungrateful. And it was through no fault of his 
that Doug lay in prison, charged with murder. 
It was a terrible thought and Peggy couldn’t 
shake it from her mind. It persisted in haunting 
her all the while she danced. Above the chatter 
and laughter — above the loud, blatant music, 
she seemed all the while conscious of Jim’s low- 
spoken words, “ Doug’s been arrested for the 
murder of his wife.” 

It persisted even when she lay in bed back at 
Fifi’s, where she was spending the remainder of 
the night. The words still seemed to be drum¬ 
ming in her ears, driving away any possibility 
of sleep. For a long time she tossed between the 
cool white sheets and then, unable to rest, she 
crept to the window. 

It was there Fifi found her in the cold gray 
dawn — a pathetic little figure in her plain 
voile night gown. 

“ Peggy dear, do try and rest,” she whispered. 


PEGGY MAKES A DECISION 209 


“ These next few weeks will call for all your 
strength.” 

She put both arms around the girl, drawing her 
slender body to her, smoothing, with one hand, 
the ruffled mop of brown curling hair. 

“ Poor little Peggy. Life’s proved bitter for 
you already,” she murmured. “ But, my dear, 
it’s a fine thing, the right thing, that you’re 
going to do.” 

A great sob shook Peggy’s frame. “ Oh, Fifi, 
if only he hadn’t lied to me.” 

There was real anguish in her cry and it tore 
at Fifi’s heart. But she was powerless to help 
the girl. She could do nothing but let Peggy 
lie there and sob her poor tired heart out. 

The next day Jim took Peggy round to see 
Doug Wyman’s lawyers. 

Peggy felt strangely nervous as she sat in 
the waiting room that had a quaint air of solid 
dignity with its luxurious leather armchair and 
its polished table where the latest periodicals 
were spread. 

She tried to interest herself in a magazine but 
she found herself reading one sentence again 
and again without in the least taking in its 
meaning. 

Presently she was informed by a stenographer 


210 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


that Mr. Maddock, the junior partner, would 
like to see her alone. 

Jim promised to wait for her and, not without 
a certain sense of misgiving, Peggy entered the 
office. 

Mr. Maddock was standing by his desk, wait¬ 
ing for her. He was a tall, thin man, with sharp, 
clever features and, as Peggy approached, he 
drew up a chair for her beside his desk. 

“ Sit down, Miss Mason,” he said. “ I can’t 
tell you how glad I am that you’ve come forward 
on your own account. You see, you’re a very 
important factor in proving an alibi for our 
client. Of course, we knew that there was 
some young lady involved, but Mr. Wyman had 
steadfastly refused to disclose* her name.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 
Joe is Loyal 

“ You say he wouldn’t give my name?” 

There could be no mistaking the pathetic 
eagerness in Peggy’s voice. She leant forward, 
looking up at him, her little hands locked 
together in her lap. 

Mr. Maddock moved over to the window. 

“ No, our client was quite emphatic about 
that point. We urged him repeatedly to do 
so. A sense of chivalry is all very very well 
but, when a life is at stake, it is my opinion that 
you can carry chivalry a trifle too far. How¬ 
ever, as I said, I’m glad that you came forward 
on your own account.” 

There was a slight pause, while Mr. Maddock 
opened several of the drawers in his desk and 
took out some papers. 

Peggy sank back in the chair. She was filled 
with a strange sense of exultation, lighter of 
heart than she had been for days. If Doug had 
refused to give her name, even when it might 
cost him his life, then surely, surely he must 
love her. It was a glorious thought. She hugged 
211 


212 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


it to her as she sat, gazing round at the solid 
oak furniture and the shelves of ponderous 
volumes that surrounded the walls. 

Mr. Maddock had put on horn-rimmed spec¬ 
tacles and was examining a typewritten docu¬ 
ment. 

“ Our client has stated that he spent the 
greater part of Saturday motoring out to his 
bungalow in the country. He further states that 
he and a friend arrived a little after eight and 
then proceeded to prepare supper. Will you 
testify to those statements?” 

Peggy nodded. 

“ At the hour the murder is supposed to have 
been committed, somewhere around eleven 
thirty, Mr. Wyman has said that he and this 
same friend were talking in the living room of 
the bungalow.” 

He paused, looking up at her interrogatively, 
and once again Peggy nodded. 

Mr. Maddock then cleared his throat and con¬ 
tinued, but not without a certain diffidence. 

“ Our client also states that he spent the 
entire night in the bungalow. Do you know that 
also to be correct?” 

For one moment Peggy hesitated. So much 
seemed to hang in the balance. Her own repu- 


JOE IS LOYAL 


213 


tation, Joe’s happiness and, against that, swing¬ 
ing down the other side of the scales were her 
memories of Doug, her love for him, and now the 
knowledge that he would have risked his life 
to save her reputation. 

“ Yes, that’s quite correct.” 

Her voice was so low that Mr. Maddock him¬ 
self scarcely heard her words. 

He looked at her keenly and, as she felt his 
eyes upon her, she averted her head, for a hot 
color had crept into her cheeks. 

It was done now. She had made her decision 
and, for some reason, she was conscious of no 
feeling of shame, only a strange sense of triumph. 

“ I see,” said the lawyer, as he made some 
notes with his pencil. “ Your evidence will be 
invaluable, Miss Mason.” 

Some half an hour later Peggy left the office 
and she and Jim walked back across the Com¬ 
mon, scarcely speaking. 

Once Peggy stopped to give some crumbs she 
happened to have in her hand bag to a squirrel, 
who sat on his haunches by the pathway, his 
head cocked on one side. 

Peggy often came out to feed these strange 
little creatures who lived, unafraid, almost in 
the very heart of a great city. She rarely crossed 


214 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


the Common without having something in her 
bag to give them. 

“ I wonder if you could get word to Joe that 
I want to see him this afternoon,” she said 
presently. 

“ Nothing easier,” Jim returned. “ I’m going 
over to Tech myself after lunch. I’ll get hold 
of him for you.” 

He hesitated, “ Shall I tell him anything, 

Peg?” 

She didn’t reply for a moment. She seemed 
absorbed in untwisting some oriental beads that 
hung around her neck. Then she said, “Thanks, 
Jim, but I think that it’s up to me to do it my¬ 
self.” 

It was a little after four when Joe appeared at^ 
the Coffee House that afternoon. 

Peggy was setting the tables for tea and, 
creeping quietly up behind her, he imprisoned 
her suddenly in his arms. 

“ Well, sweet one, what’s all the hurry to 
see me?” 

He raised her hand to his lips and, as he did 
so, he noticed that the ring he had placed on 
her finger the day before was no longer there. 

“ What’s this, Peggy,” he asked, frowning. 

“ Where’s your ring, little girl?” 


JOE IS LOYAL 


215 


“ Upstairs,” she said, briefly. Then, as she 
drew herself away from him, “ I’ll be off duty in 
a minute. Can you take me somewhere where 
we can talk uninterruptedly?” 

“ Nothing easier, I’ve the flivver outside. We 
can go anywhere you fancy-” He was grad¬ 

ually becoming aware of the strain in her manner 
and it made him vaguely uneasy. 

“ Say, Peg,” he burst out, “ there’s nothing 
seriously the matter, is there? Don’t keep a 
fellow in suspense. You’re giving me a scare.” 

“ I can’t go into it now, Joe,” she said, as she 
continued setting the table. “ You’ll have to 
wait.” 

As, later, he helped her into the car, he re¬ 
marked, “ You’re looking awfully pale, Peg. 
Sort of washed out. Suppose you’re done in 
after the dance.” 

“ Yes, I didn’t get much sleep last night.” 

“ Excitement keep you awake?” 

She smiled faintly, “ No, not excitement.” 

Peggy was not in a talkative mood, and they 
drove for a while in silence. 

“ I know what’s really the matter with you,” 
Joe burst out, suddenly. “ It’s working in that 
blasted Coffee House in all this heat. Cooking 
over a hot stove — no wonder you’re pale. Look 



216 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


here, Peg, I don’t see any point in your slaving 
yourself to a shadow in that joint, just to feed 
a lot of dumb fellows who don’t seem to have 
enough sense to get a decent hair cut. Why 
don’t you marry me right now, Peggy? I can’t 
see any point in waiting. Dad’ll give me money, 
and I’ll take you on a regular honeymoon.” 

Peggy shook her head. 

“ I can’t marry you, now, Joe. Maybe we 
won’t be getting married at all.” 

Joe stopped the car abruptly by the side of 
the road. 

“ See here, Peg,” he said. “ You gave me 
the chuck once before and I’m not planning to 
have you do so a second time. Tell me what 
the trouble is. Shoot.” 

She found it very difficult to begin and, even 
when she was started, she spoke in a low, 
breathless voice, keeping her eyes averted from 
his. 

He listened for a while without interrupting 
but, when she told him of her decision to come 
forward to help Doug Wyman prove an alibi, 
he burst out angrily, “ But that’s nonsense, Peg. 
You don’t owe the man anything. In fact, he 
owes you a darned sight more than he’s ever 
likely to pay. The damned swine. Don’t worry 


JOE IS LOYAL 


217 


your head over him. He’ll get out of the mess 
all right, without your interfering.” 

“ If you’d only let me finish, Joe,” said Peggy, 
quietly. “ I went round to see his lawyers this 
morning and told them that I was prepared to 
give my evidence, if necessary, to help them 
prove an alibi.” 

There was a short, strained silence, and then 
Joe said, through his teeth, “ You mean to say 
you took that step without first consulting me? 
Why, Peg, you must be mad. Maybe they’ll 
drag you into court. Nice scandal that would 
make. Who’d believe that you were only the 
innocent victim? They’d laugh at your story. 
For the life of me I can’t see why you didn’t keep 
quiet about it. Seems almost as though you 
were in love with the man. You’re not, are you, 
Peg?” 

His voice was frankly appealing, but Peggy 
didn’t reply. She was sitting back in a corner, 
her face deadly white; her lips drawn together in 
a straight line. Something in the silence 
frightened Joe and, in his agitation, he found 
himself answering his own question. 

“ But, of course you’re not. It’s only that 
you’re too blamed chicken hearted — that’s all. 
Suppose you thought it was your duty?” 


218 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Then, as the horror of it once more overcame 
him, he added, vehemently, “ Guess they’ll have 
it in the papers. Print it in flaring headlines,” 
he laughed, mirthlessly. “ It would be too good 
a story to miss. All the fellows at Tech will 
read it. Talk it over amongst themselves. I 
can just hear them — darn them. Maybe they’ll 

think you’re just a-Gosh! Peg, you were 

crazy to do it!” 

“ Crazy or not, it’s done now, Joe. So there’s 
no use screeching at me.” 

“ Sorry, Peg, I didn’t mean to do that. But, 
well — you must realize that this is a sort of 
knock out blow to a fellow. Say, if dad should 
get wind of it! It’s hardly likely to prejudice 
him in favor of the girl I’m going to marry.” 

Peggy looked up at him quickly. 

“ That’s just it, Joe. I don’t expect you to 
marry me after this. I want you to let me 
break the engagement.” 

She fumbled in her bag and brought out the 
ring he had given her the day before. The 
sunlight caught the diamonds, making them 
flash sparkling rays of rainbow light. 

“ Please take it, Joe,” she whispered. 

Joe was staring straight in front of him; his 
whole soul torn in agony of doubt. Could he 



JOE IS LOYAL 


219 


face the disgrace with her — the inevitable pub¬ 
licity? Oh, if only he didn’t love her so much, 
want her so much. His whole being cried out 
for her. His need of her was with him an 
overwhelming, mastering passion. 

Once before it had overridden his pride just 
as now it suddenly swept aside all his scruples. 

“ I don’t care what you’ve done — what you’re 
going to do, Peg,” he cried, hoarsely, “ I’ll stick 
to you, girl. I just can’t give you up.” 


t 


CHAPTER XXIV 
Jenny's Story 

The atmosphere in the Yellow Dragon Coffee 
House was charged with excitement as the day 
for the trial drew near. Doug Wyman had been 
a frequenter of the place and even those who 
had not known him intimately were interested 
enough to discuss the various aspects of the case 
as they lingered over tea or dinner. 

That Peggy was directly concerned in it had 
not, as yet, become known and it had been 
decided, amongst those who knew, that it must 
be kept secret, if possible, up to the very day of 
the trial. 

Jenny had repeatedly tried to draw Peggy into 
conversation about the possible outcome, but 
Peggy took trouble to make it plain to Jenny 
that the subject was one which she did not wish 
to discuss. 

For some days Jenny did not mention the 
subject in her presence. Peggy had just come 
to the conclusion that the girl had taken her at 
her word when, one night, after all the guests 
had left the Coffee House, Jenny followed her 
up, uninvited, to her room. 

220 


JENNY’S STORY 


221 


It was a stuffy night, and it followed a day 
that had been unbearably hot. Even though the 
window was wide open there seemed hardly a 
breath of air in the little attic bedroom. 

Peggy, tired and listless after the day’s work, 
was contemplating lying in a cold bath, when 
Jenny appeared on the threshold. 

“ Look here, Peg. I’ve simply got to talk to 
you,” she said, as she came into the room and 
seated herself on the edge of the bed. “ This 
mess Doug has got himself into is getting on my 
nerves. I can’t sleep of nights for thinking of 
it. I keep on turning all the facts over in my 
brain, wondering how a jury will look at it. I 
keep telling myself that they’ve nothing to con¬ 
vict him on and yet, why did they arrest him in 
the first place? It beats me. I know as well as 
you do that Doug didn’t do it. I suppose it’s 
a sort of intuition. But, the point is, can you 
expect an assortment of twelve dumb men — 
most likely tradesmen — to have the same intu¬ 
ition?” 

Peggy shook her head, wearily. 

“ Don’t ask me,” she said. 

Jenny reached for a cigarette off the dressing 
table. 

“ Do you know, that this affair has got on 


222 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


my nerves to such an extent that I went round 
to see Doug’s lawyers this afternoon?” 

While she had been talking, Peggy had been 
standing by the window, staring down onto the 
street where white moonbeams played like chil¬ 
dren, chasing themselves across the uneven sur¬ 
face of the road. 

Now she turned slowly round to face Jenny. 

“ You did?” 

Jenny nodded. 

“ Yes, I thought they might be able to make 
some use of me. Get me to help prove an alibi, 
or something. You know, I’d swear black’s white 
to get Doug free,” her voice broke, suddenly. 
“ I tell you, Peg, he’s been a wonderful pal to 
me. At times I believe I should have ended it 
all if it hadn’t been for Doug. I was feeling 
pretty low in New York when he arranged for 
me to come up here. Maybe you don’t believe 
me. Maybe you think that there was more 
between us than just friendship.” 

Peggy stiffened imperceptibly. She wondered 
if, by any chance, Jenny guessed the agony of 
jealousy she had once suffered because of the 
girl’s strange friendship with Doug. But she 
answered quickly, “ I’m not so mean as that, 
Jenny.” 


JENNY’S STORY 


223 


Jenny relit another cigarette from the butt of 
her last. Peggy had noticed that she had been 
smoking incessantly these last few weeks. 

“ I’m sorry I said that, Peg, and, after all, 
it hasn’t much to do with what I came to talk 
to you about. The lawyer fellow, I think his 
name was Maddock, said that they already had 
an alibi. He told me, in confidence, that some 
girl spent the night with Doug in his hut in 
the country and she’s going to come forward 

and tell her story in court-” 

She paused and looked across at Peggy, who, 
conscious of the keenness of her gaze, shifted 
uneasily on her feet. 

“ Well?” she said, almost sharply. 

Jenny shrugged. “ Don’t think that you need 
tell me anything you don’t want to, Peg, and, 
after all, it’s only a rough guess of mine, but, 
somehow, I’ve a sort of an idea that it’s you —” 
Peggy hesitated, momentarily — decided that 
it was best to tell Jenny the truth. “ Yes, it’s 
I, Jenny,” she said, quietly. 

Jenny nodded slowly. 

“ I thought so,” she said. 

There was a moment’s silence, then, leaning 
forward, Jenny said, eagerly, “ Listen, Peg, 
I’ve a proposal to make to you. Let me take 



224 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


your place in court. I’ll tell them that I was 
the girl with Doug that night. Who’s to know 
the difference? I should say that one girl was 
much the same as another to them.” 

Peggy stared at her for a full second. “ Why 
should you suggest doing that?” she asked with 
a queer note in her voice. 

“ I’ve been thinking of all the terrible pub¬ 
licity you’ll get — what people will think. 
You’re not the sort that can carry it off with a 
high head. I think it’ll break you, Peggy. 
Then, there’s Joe, the boy you’re going to marry. 
He’s a nice, clean kid and it won’t be too pleas¬ 
ant for him to have his future wife notorious over 
night. You’d better let me do it.” 

“ Why should it be any pleasanter for you, 
Jenny?” Peggy asked, quickly. 

“ It won’t. But it doesn’t matter about me. 
Men will only shrug their shoulders and women 
will say that it’s just what one might have 
expected. I tell you, Peggy, no one’s going to 
die of the shock if I’m involved in a case like 
this,” and she gave a short, harsh laugh. 

Peggy stood motionless. She had told her¬ 
self that she dreaded the task before her — 
that it was only a sense of duty that drove her 
to what she had looked upon as an ordeal but, 


JENNY’S STORY 


225 


now that Jenny was offering to release her from 
it, she suddenly knew that she gloried in her 
sacrifice — that nothing could persuade her to 
give it up. 

“ It’s kind of you, Jenny,” she said, “ but 
what you suggest is impossible. You see, things 
might go worse for Doug if it was found out 
that you were lying. Besides, it wouldn’t be 
right.” 

Jenny sprang off the bed and crossed towards 
her. “ Gosh, I admire you, Peggy,” she said, 
awkwardly, “ I didn’t like you, once. I thought 
you were a bit of a prig, I’m sorry for that, now.” 

Peggy flushed uncomfortably. She felt some¬ 
how as if she were receiving praise that wasn’t 
her due. It wasn’t noble of her at all. She 
knew now that she wanted to do it. 

“ I think, sometimes, you’ve wondered about 
Doug’s friendship with me, Peg,” said Jenny 
presently. “ I sort of feel I’d like to tell you 
about it now. Do you remember my once 
telling you that it was a love affair when I was 
little more than a kid that started me on what 
is popularly known as the downward path? I 
fell in love with Doug’s younger brother, 
Harold. They were both staying, one summer, 
at my father’s farm in Maine. We used to 


226 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


take in paying guests six months of the year to 
make some extra cash. It happened then. 
Doug tried to make him stick to me afterwards, 
but he wouldn’t. He left for England within the 
year, and he’s been there ever since. It broke 
me up at the time and I went to New York, 
trying to forget. But ever since then Doug’s 
sort of held himself responsible for me. He’s 
helped me out a hundred times when I’ve been 
on the rocks. That’s why I’d do a mighty lot 
to get him free.” 

In the days that immediately preceded the 
trial, Joe did everything in his power to relieve 
the tension for Peggy. He brought her flowers 
— summer roses and violets, and he would take 
her on long drives in the cool of summer eve¬ 
nings. He never complained if she were silent; 
he seemed happy in serving her. 

And Peggy was very grateful for his kind¬ 
ness; it touched her strangely. Once she tried 
to thank him but he only cut in on her, “ Shelve 
that, Peg. I’m not doing this for thanks. I’m 
doing it because I love you.” 

His words hurt her, somehow. At those 
moments she wished, with all her heart, that she 
could give him love, instead of gratitude, in 
return. 


JENNY’S STORY 


227 


The day of the trial came round. Joe did 
not offer to accompany her and Peggy was glad 
of it. Fifi and Jim took her to the court house 
and they met Mr. Maddock in the lobby. 

“ Well, Miss Mason, I hope this is not going 
to worry you too much,” he said, kindly. 
“You’re feeling all right?” 

“ Yes, I’m all right,” she said. 

Mr. Maddock then took them into court and 
found seats for them near his desk. 

The court was already crowded. Some of the 
spectators had been in their seats since early 
morning. Peggy shivered, involuntarily. There 
was such a cold, formal air about the whole pro¬ 
ceeding. It seemed incredible to her that in this 
court lay the power of life or death. 

Presently she felt Fifi’s hand gripping hers as 
Doug was brought into the dock. He looked 
much the same; paler, perhaps, but there was 
still the queer little smile on his lips. He nodded 
across at them and, for the next half hour, Peggy 
was conscious that his eyes rarely left her face. 
She was dressed in a plain gray frock with a 
little gray hat, that gave her almost the air of 
a Quaker. 

The jury were sworn in; the judge appeared 
on the bench. Then, in a stern, clear voice the 


228 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


clerk of the court read the indictment, charging 
Doug with the murder of his wife. 

Doug heard it, apparently unmoved, but, as 
Peggy listened, long icy fingers seemed to clutch 
at her heart. It all seemed so terrible, unbe¬ 
lievable, almost. She felt dazed; incapable of 
taking in all that was going on around her. 

As in a dream she heard the judge’s ringing 
voice, “ Prisoner at the bar. Are you guilty 
or not guilty?” 

Doug’s reply, low and decided, and then, a 
black cloud, descending upon her; a strange 
dizziness. Peggy had fainted. 


CHAPTER XXV 
The Trial 

The trial dragged on for several days. The 
second day Peggy gave her evidence and was 
cross-examined by the prosecuting attorney. 
He did his utmost to discredit her evidence, but 
Peggy stuck rigidly to the story she had told 
in the first instance, never altering it in the 
slightest degree. There was no doubt, also, that 
Peggy’s refined manner and her quiet, tasteful 
clothes made a favorable impression on the jury. 
The prosecutor did his best to label her a woman 
of no account — whose word could not be relied 
upon, but apart from the fact that she had 
been alone with Doug in his bungalow, at the 
hour of the murder, he could find nothing definite 
against her reputation. 

Those were terrible hours for Peggy, when 
she sat on the witness stand under the quick fire 
of questions from the prosecutor. He seemed 
to regard nothing as sacred; each detail he made 
as sordid as possible and dragged it blatantly 
before the jury’s eyes. 

Peggy sat through it all without flinching; her 
little face tense and white beneath the low brim 
229 


230 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


of her small gray hat. There was something 
intensely appealing about her slight, childish 
figure as she leaned listlessly back in the chair. 
She gave her answers in a low, clear voice which 
never faltered and, more than once, several 
members of the jury were observed blowing their 
noses violently. 

“ If Doug doesn’t get off scot free after this,” 
Fifi whispered to Jim, “ I’ll have no faith in 
American sentiment.” 

Perhaps, of them all in that crowded court¬ 
room, Doug suffered the most during those ter¬ 
rible hours that Peggy was grilled on the witness 
stand. His face was rigid, but, several times 
during the cross-examination, his hands clenched 
so tightly that his finger nails bit deep into his 
flesh, leaving ugly blue marks where his nails 
had pierced the skin. 

His eyes rarely left Peggy’s face, and few who 
saw him doubted that he loved her. He seemed 
to suffer so intensely on each occasion when the 
lash of the prosecutor’s tongue whipped Peggy 
with scorn. He felt murderous then. He 
wanted to spring from the dock and throttle the 
mocking words in the throat of the man who 
was tearing the reputation of the girl he loved 
to tatters. Many times he cursed himself for 


THE TRIAL 


231 


his mad act of daring love that had dragged 
Peggy into this affair. And yet, she could have 
kept silent. In the black of night he wondered 
why she hadn’t done so. Sometimes a glimmer 
of hope came to him, a hope that her sacrifice 
was prompted through love of him but, always, 
the hope was extinguished by the crushing 
thought that she was doing it only out of a 
sense of duty. 

And yet, what perplexed him most was the 
fact that, after all, she could have saved her 
own reputation. She could have told how she 
had been taken to the bungalow without knowing 
it, and of her escape through the bedroom win¬ 
dow. Even though it would make him out a 
cad in the eyes of the world — what did it matter 
to her? 

After Peggy, Doug’s valet gave his evidence. 
He told the court how he went out by train on 
the Saturday morning and put the bungalow in 
readiness for the reception of his master and a 
guest. He stated that he laid the supper table 
for two, prepared a fire and put clean sheets 
on the bed. With the aid of Mr. Maddock’s 
skilful questions he related that on the following 
Monday morning he again returned, by train, 
to the bungalow and found the bed slept in; the 


232 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


fire burned out in the grate and the supper table 
littered with used dishes. He was further re¬ 
minded by Mr. Maddock that he found Mr. 
Wyman’s crumpled pajamas on the bedroom 
floor. 

The chief witness for the prosecution was the 
hotel clerk, who stated that Doug Wyman bore 
a strong resemblance to the man whom he had 
shown to the murdered woman’s bedroom. Yet 
his evidence was somewhat discredited because 
he would not swear that the two men were iden¬ 
tical, as he professed to having felt distinctly 
sleepy at the time. 

The letter, written by the murdered woman 
to Doug, asking him to meet her at that par¬ 
ticular hotel, was also produced in court as evi¬ 
dence against the defendant. 

Finally the last day of the trial came round 
and the greater part of it was taken up by Mr. 
Maddock’s address to the jury, followed by 
that of the prosecuting attorney. 

Both were masterpieces of eloquence and, as 
she listened to the prosecutor making his closing 
arguments, Peggy was conscious of the cold 
chill of a dreadful fear. Supposing — just sup¬ 
posing the jury believed him. The consequence 
seemed too horrible to be entertained. 


THE TRIAL 


233 


The judge was summing up. Peggy listened, 
not taking in half that he was saying. All the 
while she was watching the faces of the jury, 
wondering what was going on in their minds. 
They were twelve such ordinary looking men; 
it seemed terrible to Peggy that Doug’s very 
life lay in their hands. 

“ Gentlemen of the jury, you may retire.” 

The judge closed his address and the jury 
slowly filed out of the courtroom. 

An hour passed. An hour of such agony of 
mind as Peggy had never experienced. Each 
moment seemed like an eternity. Fifi and Jim 
were also feeling the strain and the three of them 
paced up and down the corridors of the court 
house, rarely speaking, gripping each other 
tightly by the hand. 

Through it all Peggy was conscious of the 
curious eyes of spectators lounging in the pas¬ 
sages fixed upon her as she passed. And, more 
than once, she heard the whisper, “ That’s the 
girl. That’s the girl who says she was with him 
the night of the murder.” 

It was a new sensation to Peggy to have 
people stare at her as an object of curiosity. 
Some of their glances were impudent and several 
times Peggy felt herself flushing furiously. 


234 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Several newspaper camera men blocked her 
path and snapped her before she quite realized 
what was happening. She protested angrily, at 
first, but soon she came to accept it with a shrug 
of her shoulders. “ I suppose I’ve got to get 
used to it,” she told herself, bitterly. 

The time of waiting seemed endless. 

“ How long are they going to keep us in 
suspense?” she asked Fifi, brokenly. 

“ As long as they take to agree. God knows 
it doesn’t seem to me as though they should have 
anything to differ about.” 

Suddenly the murmur flashed through the cor¬ 
ridors that the jury had agreed. 

Everyone hastened back into the courtroom, 
laughing and chatting the while — for all the 
world like a first night audience returning eagerly 
to witness the last act of a play. 

“ How anyone can come here for amusement,” 
Fifi exclaimed, bitterly. 

“ It’s a relic of the barbarian ages, my dear,” 
said Jim, “ when the whole tribe turned out to 
witness a human sacrifice. It’s just the same 
crowd who, in the middle ages, used to wait up 
all night to watch the death agonies of some 
poor devil, burnt at the stake.” 

Peggy followed behind the crowd as though 


THE TRIAL 235 

she were walking in a trance, only conscious of 
a deadly sick feeling in her stomach. 

The judge returned to the bench; the jurors 
filed back solemnly into their places. 

“ Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed 
upon your verdict?” asked the clerk of the court, 
in a resonant voice. 

The foreman rose and answered, soberly, “ We 
have.” 

A hand reached out and gripped Peggy’s, 
• crushing it in a grip of iron, Jim’s hand. 

“ How do you find the defendant, guilty, or 
not guilty?” 

Fifi’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a scream. 

Doug’s face was bloodless; his hands gripped 
the edge of the dock. Peggy sat stunned, under 
a nameless fear. 

“ Not guilty.” 

A brief, sharp silence and then, as though by 
magic, the whole atmosphere of the courtroom 
seemed changed. A hum of chatter immediately 
replaced the deathlike lull of a moment before. 
Doug was shaking hands with Mr. Maddock, 
while the prosecuting attorney was coming for¬ 
ward to congratulate him. Jim, beside himself 
with joy, rushed forward and slapped Doug 
across the back, and Fifi, following closely on 


236 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


her husband’s heels, flung her arms around Doug 
and kissed him, rapturously. 

Only Peggy stood still among the stream of 
people hurrying towards the door. She was 
clinging to the back of a chair, wondering if her 
knees would support her weight. 

In that moment she thought that everyone 
had forgotten her. She longed to go to Doug’s 
side and yet something held her back. After 
all, what was the use? She was pledged in 
honor to another man. 

She turned, with a half sob, and started to 
grope her way towards the exit, but she had not 
gone more than a few steps when Fifi stopped 
her. 

“ Peggy,” she whispered, “ Doug wants to 
speak to you — alone.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 
The Barrier Between 

“ No, no. We can have nothing to say to each 
other.” 

The words seemed to be wrung from Peggy’s 
white lips. Fifi felt that the girl was trembling 
all over and feared that she might break down. 
She put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. 

“ Peggy dear,” she said, “ you’ve been through 
a lot and you’ve been wonderful, but Doug’s 
been through a lot, too. And he does want to 
speak to you. It will be very cruel to him if you 
leave now, without a word.” 

Peggy stood, white to the lips, torn between 
conflicting emotions. Part of her longed to go 
to Doug, to speak with him, but against the 
instinct — something else — a sort of nameless 
fear — seemed to be urging her to escape. 

She put her hand to her forehead. 

“ Oh, Fifi, if you only knew how tired I am. 
He only wants to thank me. And I don’t want 
him to do that.” 


237 


238 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Fifi pulled her gently round by the hand. 

“ Please, Peggy. If not for his sake, then for 
Jim’s and mine.” 

Peggy gave in at that and, without a word, she 
followed Fifi across the now practically deserted 
courtroom to where Jim and Doug stood talking. 

As he saw them approach, Doug broke off 
in the midst of a sentence and, moving forward, 
he caught hold of Peggy’s hands. 

“ Peggy,” he whispered, “ little Peggy.” 

The old name on his lips, and, suddenly, her 
eyes filled with tears and she bent her head, 
fighting to regain her self-control. 

She must be calm. He must never suspect 
how she loved him! There was Joe to be thought 
of — Joe who had remained loyal to her through 
all this scandal. Whatever happened, she 
must keep him in the foreground of her 
thoughts. 

“ Little Peggy. Are you frightened to look 
at me?” 

The old mocking tone in his voice, and yet, 
there was a deeper note in it, too, than she had 
heard before. What was there about his voice 
that the mere sound of it had the power to 
hurt her so? 

She forced herself to raise her head. 


THE BARRIER BETWEEN 239 


Fifi and Jim had wandered away, and Peggy 
and Doug were alone now, in that room poig¬ 
nant with bitter memories. 

For a full moment they stood looking at each 
other, without speaking. It was the same Doug, 
and yet, to Peggy, there was a difference. He 
seemed older; the lines in his face more pro¬ 
nounced and she noticed that there was more 
gray hair on his temples than she had seen there 
before. Then, too, the smile about his lips had 
gone, leaving only the slightly cynical twist. 
But it was his eyes that seemed most changed. 
The laughter had died in them; they were 
sterner; the eyes of a man who has had his 
share of suffering. 

He put out his hand and gently touched her 
cheek. 

“ Tears, little Peggy. Why are you crying? 
Is it because you are glad — for my sake?” 

She nodded slowly. “ Yes, I’m glad, Doug. 
You must know that.” 

They seemed to find very little to say to each 
other just then; it was enough that they were 
together. Presently Doug said: 

“ You know, Peggy, I really owe it all to 
you. Without your evidence I might, even now, 
be still in prison. You saved my life —little 


240 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


Peggy — and now it’s yours. What are you 
going to do with it?” 

Peggy winced; his words hurt her cruelly. She 
wondered if he were speaking out of gratitude 
or love. And, even as she wondered, she told 
herself sternly that, whichever it was, it was of 
no consequence to her. Her life was pledged to 
Joe. She forced herself to say: 

“ I think you are over estimating what I have 
done. After all, it was my duty to come forward 
and tell the truth.” 

He stiffened imperceptibly. That hated word 
on her lips — duty. And then, quite suddenly, 
he smiled. 

“ And yet, Peggy, you didn’t tell the whole 
truth.” 

She drew away from him, glancing desperately 
round her, almost as though she were seeking 
some means of escape. She was terrified lest 
he should trap her into admitting that she loved 
him. 

She could feel her heart throbbing in her 
throat, but she forced herself to be calm and 
answer stiffly: 

“ No. Your lawyer thought it best that I 
should not tell — everything.” 

“ I see. So you kept silent on Mr. Maddock’s 


THE BARRIER BETWEEN 241 


advice. And yet, by doing so, Peggy, you con¬ 
demned yourself.” 

“ You mean that people will think — will 
think that I am-?” 

He broke in upon her almost fiercely. 

“ It doesn’t matter what they think now, 
Peggy. They won’t dare to say anything, for, 
by this time tomorrow, you will be my wife.” 

There was a moment’s tense silence, and then 
Peggy turned away with a cry that was almost a 
moan. 

“ You’re mad, Doug, to think of such a thing. 
Of course I’m not going to marry you.” 

He moved after her and once more he caught 
hold of her hands. 

“ Yes, you are, Peggy. You’re going to marry 
me, even though you divorce me afterwards. 
You’ve a right now to my name, and you’ve also 
a right to share in my money. And I’m going 
to see that you get them. Peggy, you’re going 
to marry me today.” 

She heard the old, insistent, compelling note in 
his voice. It seemed to be taking hold of her 
again and she set all her strength against it. 
She would never let him marry her out of grati¬ 
tude—and then, there was Joe to be thought of. 
She must be loyal to Joe! She shook her head. 



242 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ It’s no use, Doug. I can’t marry you.” 

He looked at her for a long moment before 
replying. He always had had a knack of reading 
what was going on in her mind. 

“ Peggy dear, you’re not thinking that I want 
to marry you out of gratitude? You know better 
than that. I’ve loved you right from the very 
moment I first saw you, just as I love you now. 
But, during the last month my love has changed, 
Peggy. Once it was founded upon passion, but 
now it’s based on something finer — something 
that will last until the end of my life. It’s the 
only thing to me that counts now, Peggy.” 

She stood silent; his words echoing in her 
brain. They were wonderful to hear — unbe¬ 
lievable, almost. She seemed to have waited 
so long to hear them. He misinterpreted her 
silence. 

“ Peggy, what’s frightening you, dear? I want 
you to know that even though you go through 
the ceremony with me it need only be a marriage 
in name. I swear I’ll make no claim on you, 
my dear. You can be absolutely your own 
mistress except that you will have given me the 
right to protect you, to give you all that I have.” 

Oh, if only he would stop! Couldn’t he under¬ 
stand that he was almost breaking her heart — 


THE BARRIER BETWEEN 243 


that his words were an exquisite torture. Each 
moment he seemed to be making it harder for 
her to refuse him. He was still speaking. 

“ Peggy, you’re not hesitating because of what 
happened in my country hut that night. I know 
now that I was a fool to risk it, but I was crazy 
with love for you. I swear that nothing like it 
will happen again, Peggy. Please believe that 
you can trust me.” 

His eyes were pleading with her and the look 
in them was more than Peggy could bear. 

“ It’s not that I don’t trust you, Doug,” she 
cried, suddenly, “ but I can’t marry you — ever. 
I’ve given my promise to another man.” 

His hand gripped her arm so tightly that he 
bruised her flesh. 

“ You can’t mean that, Peggy.” 

“ But it’s true,” she replied. “ Look!” 

She held up her left hand and showed him the 
half hoop of diamonds and sapphires that 
sparkled gaily on her third finger. 

“ Who is he, Peg?” 

“ Joe — Joe Brinton, the fellow I was engaged 
to before I came to live on Beacon Hill.” 

Slowly he let go of her arm. “ You’re going 
to marry him — after all this?” She flushed 
suddenly. 


244 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ He knows the truth, Doug. All the pub¬ 
licity hasn’t made any difference to him — he’s 
been wonderfully loyal through it all.” 

Doug’s face clouded. “ I see, Peggy. Then 
you’re lucky. He’s evidently a thoroughly decent 
sort.” 

Peggy turned her head away; the pain in his 
eyes hurt her. 

“ He is,” she said quietly. 

There followed a long, uncomfortable silence. 
Then the corners of Doug’s mouth twitched in 
the old, half cynical, half whimsical smile. 

“ Then there’s nothing left for me to do but to 
thank you and wish you luck, little Peggy.” 

He held out his hand and she put her own, 
small and white, into it. He was still smiling. 

“ Good luck to you, Peggy.” 

She tried to speak but couldn’t; a lump had 
risen in her throat. In silence they turned and 
walked towards the door. 

But, half way across the room, he stopped 
her and cried, almost involuntarily, “ Peggy, you 
are sure that you love him?” 

For one brief moment she hesitated, wildly, 
then slowly she bent her head. 

They found Fifi and Jim waiting for them in 
the corridor. 


THE BARRIER BETWEEN 245 


“ Let’s all have a little dinner together, some¬ 
where, to celebrate,” said Jim. “ Perhaps we’d 
even have time to take in a show afterwards.” 

But this was too much for Peggy. She said, 
in a queer, choking voice: 

“ Whatever you’re going to do — first please 
take me home.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


Joe Speaks His Mind 

When Peggy returned to the Coffee House 
Jenny was deep in the latest editions of the 
papers. 

“ Gosh, Peggy,” she exclaimed, “ I’d go into 
vaudeville and earn a thousand bucks a week 
if I had your publicity. Just listen to this: 

‘ Young Girl’s Evidence Saves Lover’s Life.’ 
And this: c Butterfly Peggy Broken on the 
Wheel! ’ and here’s another that may amuse you: 

‘ Coffee House Queen Sacrifices Reputation to 
Save Customer from the Chair.’ My! they do 
know how to make the most of things.” 

Peggy smiled faintly. “ They certainly know 
how to rub it in,” she said. 

“ There are hundreds of photos of you, 
besides, Peg. Taken in every conceivable 
position. If I were you I would have worn 
something more dressy than that gray affair. 
It was a chance of a lifetime! Do you know that 
we’ve had swarms of photographers buzzin’ 
round here all afternoon? They’ve taken views 
246 


JOE SPEAKS HIS MIND 


247 


of the plaqe inside and out and I’ve been pestered 
to death answering questions about your life, 
past, present, and future. What I didn’t know 
I invented! Leave it to little Jenny!” and she 
looked up, laughing. But one glance at Peggy’s 
tired white face and she was immediately 
serious. Crossing to Peggy she said, in a low 
voice, “ Did you see Doug to speak to after¬ 
ward?” Peggy nodded. 

“ I’ve been hoping that perhaps-” 

But Jenny never finished her sentence; some¬ 
thing in Peggy’s manner stopped her in time. 
Instead, she said: “ Joe has been here twice 
already. He said that he would be around again 
later this evening.” 

Peggy shrank perceptibly and Jenny was quick 
to notice it. 

“ Don’t you want to see him?” she asked 
briskly. “ Because, if you don’t, I can easily 
get rid of him for you.” 

Peggy forced a smile. “ Of course I want to 
see him,” she said. “ Please let me know when 
he’s here.” 

She left the dining room and Jenny watched 
her go, through a haze of cigarette smoke. She 
looked thoughtfully after her, “I — wonder,” 
she murmured slowly and then, throwing aside 



248 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


her cigarette, she turned her attention once more 
to the papers. 

Later, when Joe arrived, Peggy allowed him 
to take her in his arms and kiss her. But she 
didn’t respond and the touch of his lips felt 
cold on her cheek. 

“ Poor sweetheart,” he murmured, “ I feel like 
buying out every edition of the rotten old papers 
and making a huge bonfire of them all. Those 
newspaper men are swine! Why ever can’t they 
leave other people’s affairs alone?” 

“ Don’t let’s talk about it, Joe,” she pleaded, 
“ I’ve had about enough of it today.” 

Immediately he was all apologies, blaming 
himself for his thoughtlessness, kissing her white, 
listless hands by way of repentance. 

“ I bet you feel like clearing out of this place 
and never setting eyes on it again,” he said, 
“ and I’m sure I don’t blame you. That’s what 
I wanted especially to talk to you about,” he 
drew her towards him and pulled her down onto 
his knees. 

“ Let’s elope to New York, Peggy,” he 
whispered, his lips on her cheek, “ we can be 
married early tomorrow morning. We’ll have 
a gay time in little old New York and then we 
can go home together. I’ll bet you’ll soon forget 


JOE SPEAKS HIS MIND 


249 


all about this mess, then. Well, sweetness, what 
do you say to it?” 

But the very prospect appalled Peggy in her 
present mood. As she listened she felt a 
strange feeling of suffocation creeping over her. 
She meant to marry Joe, certainly she did. But 
please not now; she couldn’t marry him now 
with the memory of Doug so vivid in her mind. 
He must wait, give her more time. She would 
stick to her bargain, yes, but to marry him at 
once was something she was incapable of doing. 

“ I couldn’t marry you so soon, Joe,” she cried 
quickly. “ Not possibly. I must have time to 
get ready, and then, I can’t leave here immedi¬ 
ately.” 

“ I should have thought that you would have 
been only too eager to get out of it,” he pro¬ 
tested. “ Everyone will know who you are 
around here. You’ll have crowds of curious 
people swarming in just to get a look at you and 
you’ll have fellows playing up to you just because 
they think you’re a sport-” 

He stopped abruptly, for Peggy had sprung to 
her feet and stood facing him, her eyes flashing, 
her color rising. 

“ Gosh, Peggy,” he said, awkwardly, “ I’m 
sorry I said that. Seems to me that I’m always 



250 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


saying rotten things to you lately. But this 
whole affair has absolutely got my goat. All the 
fellows at Tech know that we’re engaged and I 
heard some of them laughing about you and me 
this afternoon. Of course, they stopped immedi¬ 
ately I joined the circle. But I know that it’s 
going on all the time behind my back and I just 
about can’t stand it much longer.” 

Peggy moved towards him impulsively. To 
her there was something intensely pathetic about 
the way this big fellow was torn alternately 
between his pride and his love for her. 

“ Joe, don’t you think you had better let me 
break the engagement?” she asked softly. 

But, .even as she spoke, he caught her savagely 
in his arms. 

“ Don’t ask me, Peggy. I can’t give you up. 
I may as well tell you that I’ve tried, but there’s 
something about you that gets me, that makes 
it impossible. When will you marry me, Peg?” 

Again she felt trapped, like a bird, almost, 
struggling to be free as it sees the bars of its cage 
slowly closing down. She knew that he was 
waiting for her to reply. 

“ I’ll marry you in the early autumn, Joe,” she 
promised. “ Please be patient until then.” 

“ Autumn! ” he exclaimed. “ But what’s going 


JOE SPEAKS HIS MIND 


251 


to happen to me in the meantime? Dad will 
never stand for me hanging on here after Tech 
stops work for the summer.” 

“ Then why don’t you go home for a couple 
of months, Joe?” she suggested desperately. 
“ I’ll be ready to marry you directly you come 
back. Honest I will.” 

They argued about it for some time but, in 
the end, Joe left for Indiana early in July, 
carrying with him Peggy’s sacred promise that 
she would be ready to marry him immediately 
on his return the following September. 

His absence was a blessed respite for Peggy; 
she threw herself wholeheartedly into her work 
at the Coffee House, trying to make it completely 
fill her mind. But, gradually, she found this 
becoming increasingly difficult for, as summer 
reached its zenith, the long, hot days drove 
people from the Hill out into the country. Busi¬ 
ness at the Coffee House became slacker and 
slacker until it practically ceased altogether and 
Peggy and Jenny found it impossible to live on 
what was left over after expenses had been paid. 

“ Why don’t you go home?” Jenny asked 
Peggy one day as they stood alone in a deserted 
dining room at lunch time, while the food they 
had cooked spoiled in the kitchen. 


252 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ I couldn’t, even if I wanted to,” Peggy 
replied. “ Father disowned me definitely at the 
time of the trial. He was brought up a Quaker, 
so you can understand that it was all rather 
terrible for him.” 

Jenny nodded. 

“ Jack told me that he was like that,” she said, 
and, a moment later, she added, “ Well, I guess 
I’ll have to push off, anyhow, and get some sort 
of a job until business picks up here.” 

One evening, several days later, she came back 
to the Coffee House all excitement, to tell Peggy 
that she had secured a job in the chorus of a 
revue. 

“ They’re only going to play six weeks in 
Boston,” she said, “ but, after all, it’s better than 
nothing and even if it isn’t much of a show it’ll 
help me out until our regular customers come 
back to town.” 

During the next few weeks Jenny was very 
busy rehearsing and Peggy envied her her 
constant employment. She tried to keep her¬ 
self busy with the cooking and cleaning but she 
found it practically impossible. Time hung 
heavy on her hands and for long stretches at a 
time she would sit by her bedroom window and 
gaze out onto the scorching pavement beneath, 


JOE SPEAKS HIS MIND 


253 


thinking—. It seemed strange to her that, in 
spite of all that had happened since she first 
came to live on Beacon Hill she was now prac¬ 
tically where she had been before she started 
out. She was going to marry Joe. 

Of Doug she tried not to think and yet, in 
spite of that, he was never far from her thoughts. 
Little things would constantly remind her of 
him — the way a man smiled — the cut of a 
light gray overcoat on a passerby in the street 
— a laugh that was like his — all these things 
helped to keep her memories of him vivid. 

Joe wrote frequently, eagerly planning for 
their wedding. Peggy forced herself to reply 
to him but her letters were cold, lifeless things, 
without warmth or spirit. 

Late one afternoon, as Peggy sat by her 
window, watching the sun slip into its bed of 
flaming crimson, Jenny rushed excitedly up the 
stairs into the little attic bedroom. 

“ What do you think, Peggy, one of the girls 
in the chorus has fallen sick and they’re looking 
for someone to take her place. Directly I heard 
of it I went to the manager and asked him to 
hold the place open until tomorrow morning for 
a pal of mine. What do you say to that, 
Peggy?” 


254 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ But I’ve had no experience,” Peggy pro¬ 
tested, “ I’d be worse than useless.” 

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Jenny. “You’re a 
born actress, Peggy, and I’ll soon teach you the 
steps. Slip off your dress and we’ll have a 
rehearsal now.” 

They practiced for several hours in the cool 
of the evening and finally, when Peggy went to 
bed that night, she slept better than she had 
for weeks. She had something new to occupy 
her mind. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 
The Supper Party 

Peggy had no difficulty in securing the job in 
the chorus of the revue. She was slight and 
pretty and she walked the stage as though she 
had been born to it. She danced quite nicely, 
too, and Jenny had taught her the steps. But 
Peggy didn’t care for the life. She disliked the 
long hours spent in the stuffy theatre; the dirt 
of the dressing rooms and the stupid compli¬ 
ments of the men who hung around the stage 
door waiting for the girls to leave the theatre. 

Neither did she much care for the girls with 
whom she had to associate. They were good 
natured, in their way, but slangy and rattle¬ 
brained, and Peggy, after all she had been 
through in the past month, was unable to interest 
herself in the things that amused them. Never¬ 
theless she welcomed the hard work that kept 
her from thinking. 

The revue opened towards the end of July 
and was fairly successful. Peggy’s favorite 
ballet was a hunting chorus in which the girls 
appeared in scarlet satin coats, white satin 
255 


256 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


breeches and little black caps. The costume 
suited Peggy to perfection, accentuating her 
boyish slimness and her free and lissome move¬ 
ments. 

One night, towards the end of the run of the 
show, as they were waiting in the wings, Jenny 
whispered excitedly, “ Doug’s in the box, 
Peggy.” 

Peggy felt a sudden sinking sensation and the 
next moment she found herself dancing onto the 
stage. 

Mechanically she went through her steps but, 
all the time, as though impelled by some instinct 
stronger even than her will power. She felt her 
eyes drawn towards the box by the side of the 
stage where, silhouetted against the darkness, 
she saw Doug bending to remove a wrap from 
the shoulders of an auburn-haired girl. 

Once again she was conscious of the sharp 
pain of jealousy; she felt that she hated that 
red-haired girl in the shimmering blue evening 
frock; it seemed almost to Peggy as though the 
girl were usurping a place that was hers, Peggy’s, 
by right. 

She wondered if Doug knew that she was on 
the stage, but, if he did, his face did not betray 
the facL She felt miserably self-conscious and 


THE SUPPER PARTY 


257 


was more than thankful when the curtain fell on 
the first act. She wondered if Doug would 
try and see her, hoped, yet dreaded, that he 
would. But, apparently, he had no intention of 
doing so and, as the evening wore on, Peggy grew 
more accustomed to his presence. 

“ Gee, what a story it would make for the 
papers,” Jenny murmured to Peggy in one of 
the intervals. “ Can’t you just see the head¬ 
lines, ‘ Wyman Watches Girl Whose Evidence 
Saved His Life Dance in a Revue Chorus.’ Hey, 
Peggy, don’t stand there like a dumb-bell. Get 
a move on or you’ll be late for the next act.” 

After the final curtain Jenny came round to 
the dressing room that Peggy shared with some 
of the other girls. 

“ A man I’ve met a couple of times wants 
us to go on a party,” she said. “ He’s got tons of 
cash and it should be quite a good show. He’s 
a grass widower with a weakness for slim ankles 
and pretty calves,” and she winked knowingly 
at Peggy as, picking up her skirts, she performed 
a series of gay pirouettes. 

“ Put on your prettiest frock,” she continued, 
“ and touch up your cheeks a bit, Peg. You’re 
looking awfully pale.” 

Peggy consented to go readily enough. She 


258 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


felt that she would have welcomed any diversion 
that night, rather than to go back to the soli¬ 
tude of her little attic bedroom. She couldn’t 
allow herself to think — for her few remaining 
weeks of freedom she’d determined to be gay 
— whatever happened — she’d be gay. 

The two girls found Mr. Gale’s limousine 
waiting for them at the stage door. 

“ My! he is doing us in style!” exclaimed 
Jenny, as she saw it and, when they were inside 
she continued, “ he sent me round a note to 
apologize for not being able to call for us him¬ 
self. He said that he had some guests already 
in his apartment.” 

“ Where does he live?” asked Peggy, idly. 

“ I don’t know for certain,” said Jenny. “ But 
I fancy it’s somewhere on the Esplanade at the 
foot of the Hill.” 

Some minutes later they drew up before a 
large apartment building and at the sight of it 
Peggy suddenly gripped Jenny’s hand. 

“ Why!” she exclaimed, breathlessly, “ this is 
where Doug Wyman lives.” 

“ Gosh,” returned Jenny, “ so it is. That’s 
queer. I’ve never heard Doug or Mr. Gale 
speak of each other.” 

Mr. Gale’s apartment was luxurious in the 


THE SUPPER PARTY 


259 


extreme. The girls found themselves in a huge 
drawing room with soft, shaded lights and great 
tapestried arm chairs and lounges. The Persian 
carpet on the floor was so soft that at each step 
it seemed to sink in under their feet and this 
room opened out into a dining room equally 
attractive. 

Quite a number of young people were already 
there, chatting gaily or dancing to a gramo¬ 
phone. 

Jenny whispered mischievously to Peggy, 
“ There isn’t much room for dancing. Hardly 
enough to do more than a licensed cuddle.” 

Mr. Gale, a fat, bald-headed man with a jovial 
manner, came forward to greet them. 

“ So this is your little friend, eh?” he said to 
Jenny, as he patted Peggy’s hand, “ and a mighty 
cute little kid she seems, too.” And later, as 
he drew them into the dining room, he added, 
looking keenly at Peggy, “ Say, kiddie, I 
haven’t met you before anywhere, have I? Your 
face seems familiar and then, your name does, 
too — Peggy Mason. By Jingo! I have it. 
You’re the little girl who spoke in court for poor 
old Doug Wyman — isn’t that so?” 

Peggy felt that she was flushing, and was 
furious with herself for doing so. It seemed to 


260 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


her that there must be some evil spirit contin¬ 
ually haunting her footsteps who took a fiendish 
delight in constantly reminding her of Doug. 
Wasn’t she ever going to be allowed to forget 
him? Wasn’t it possible to wipe out the past 
completely? 

But one thing was certain; she must keep up 
a brave front in public; never must Mr. Gale 
suspect how his question had hurt her. 

She dropped him a little mock courtesy. 

“ I had that honor,” she said pertly. 

“ Funny thing,” he murmured. “ I nearly 
asked old Doug in here tonight. Fact is, I even 
went up to his apartment to do so but I found 
the blighter out. I can try and get hold of him 
now if you like.” 

“ Please don’t,” said Peggy quickly, and there 
could be no mistaking the decided note in her 
voice. 

“ So that’s how the wind blows, eh? Another 
sweetie by this time I guess. Poor old Doug, 
but there’s no keeping pace with the love affairs 
of you stage girls. Say, kiddie, do you keep 
a card index of all your beaux, past and pres¬ 
ent?” and, as he smiled down at her, he pinched 
her arm affectionately. 

There was a marvelous supper spread out for 


THE SUPPER PARTY 


261 


them: chicken salad, lobster salad, fancy cakes 
and rainbow ice cream blocks and bottles upon 
bottles of champagne. 

“ Some spread/’ whispered Jenny excitedly. 
“ My! Peg, aren’t you glad you came?” 

The guests seated themselves around the table 
and the merriment grew more uproarious as the 
meal progressed. A burst of applause followed 
by cheers greeted each fresh popping of a cham¬ 
pagne cork. The girls of the party kept up a 
shrill, insistent laughter and half way through 
the meal they commenced throwing bread pellets 
at each other. They were mostly very young 
girls; pretty girls in daring evening frocks, 
slashed almost to the waist. 

Peggy found herself in the place of honor 
beside her host. 

“ Say, cutie, 1 like your style,” he whispered 
during the courses of the meal, as he slid his arm 
around Peggy’s waist, squeezing her to him. 
“ How about putting me down on your calling 
list? I’m fairly busy during the week, but I’m 
always on tap for week-ends? What do you say 
to a little trip to the seaside? We can start 
after your show finishes Saturday and return 
some time Monday morning. Some idea, eh?” 

Peggy felt suddenly sick. Everything about 


262 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


the man nauseated her. It was easily seen the 
sort of girl he took her to be. Joe’s words sud¬ 
denly flashed through her brain, “ You’ll have 
fellows playing up to you just because they 
think you’re a sport.” 

She wanted desperately to escape from the 
party, but she knew that she must act carefully, 
for fear of creating a scene. 

“ We’ll talk about that when I know you 
better,” she laughed back at him. 

The noise increased. The champagne seemed 
to have gone to most of the guests’ heads. The 
men became affectionate and stupid; the girls 

giggly- 

“ I’m, I’m going to toast you, girlie,” Gale 
whispered, as he lurched towards her. “ Where 
do you live?” 

“ Beacon Hill,” replied Peggy. 

Gale got unsteadily to his feet and climbed 
on his chair. 

“ L — Listen all of you,” he hiccoughed. 
“ Fill up your g-glasses. I — I’m going to give 
you a toast. Here’s to Peggy of Beacon Hill.” 

They all sprang immediately to their feet. 
It didn’t matter to them whom they were toast¬ 
ing, so long as it gave them an excuse for having 
their glasses refilled. 


THE SUPPER PARTY 


263 


“Peggy of Beacon Hill!” they cried. 

Just at that moment a man appeared, laugh¬ 
ing, on the threshold. 

“ I can’t possibly sleep with all this noise 
going on above me,” he said, smiling, “ so I’ve 
come up to join you, if I may.” 

“ C-come on in, Doug,” cried Gale, who was, 
by now, three parts drunk. Then, suddenly, as 
his befuddled brain recalled Peggy’s protest 
when he had suggested asking Doug Wyman, 
he added, “ No, no, you c-can’t come in. Shoo 
— shoo,” he waved his hands in Doug’s direc¬ 
tion, almost as though he was chasing out a 
flock of chickens. 

But Doug only laughed and advanced into 
the room. Then, suddenly, the smile died on his 
lips. 

He had seen Peggy. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


Jenny Makes a Resolve 

Some time later that night, Doug Wyman had 
an opportunity of speaking to Peggy alone. 

There was a temporary lull in the dancing; 
the rest of the guests had all crowded back into 
the dining room to refresh themselves from a 
new case of champagne just opened and fresh 
relays of sandwiches. 

Only Peggy didn’t follow them. She remained 
in the drawing room, standing by the window 
that looked out onto the Charles River. There 
was something so calm and peaceful about it to 
Peggy, as it glided by — the lights along the 
river banks reflecting on the shining black sur¬ 
face of the water. 

She was very tired; her head was aching 
violently. 

Ever since Doug Wyman’s appearance she 
had forced an artificial gaiety; laughing, chat¬ 
ting and coquetting with the men while, all the 
time, her heart felt like lead inside her. 

Now, as she stood there, she momentarily 
264 


JENNY MAKES A RESOLVE 265 


closed her eyes and leant wearily against the 
framework of the window. 

“ You’ll forgive me if I say that your pres¬ 
ence here tonight surprises me.” 

She opened her eyes to see Doug Wyman 
standing, looking down at her. 

As she didn’t reply, he continued in the same, 
even tone: “I thought you told me — the 
morning of the trial, that you were to be married 
almost immediately?” 

“ I am to be married in the beginning of 
September,” Peggy answered in a low voice. 

“ Then surely there is no necessity for your 
— your joining a revue chorus in the mean¬ 
while?” 

Peggy flushed suddenly. 

“ I didn’t think you saw me tonight. You 
seemed — you seemed so occupied with the girl 
you had with you.” 

The moment Peggy had spoken she could have 
bitten out her tongue; she was, at once, covered 
with shame and mortification; terrified lest he 
should guess the reason that had prompted her 
remark. 

“ I saw you from the first, Peggy. But what 
did you expect me to do?” 

“ Oh, nothing — nothing,” she answered 


266 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


quickly. And yet she knew that, all through the 
performance, she had hoped that he would make 
some effort to see her either after the show, 
during one of the intervals or, at the very least, 
that he would send round a message to her 
dressing room. 

There was a pause, which threatened to be 
awkward. 

She forced herself to turn and say lightly: 
“ Don’t you think we had better go in and join 
the others? We may be missing some of the 
fun.” 

He drew himself up somewhat stiffly. “ Don’t 
let me drive you from your solitude,” he said. 
“ You looked so tired when I came in — as 
though you were glad of a respite — however 
brief.” 

She laughed nervously. 

“I’m all right now. I suppose I’m feeling the 
effects of the hours I’ve been keeping lately.” 

She moved away from him, across the room, 
towards the curtains that separated them from 
the dining room, from whence came the chatter 
of high-pitched voices and the clinkle of glasses. 
With one hand on the curtain she hesitated and 
stood poised for a moment, like some poor, 
drooping butterfly in her flimsy chiffon dress. 


JENNY MAKES A RESOLVE 267 


To the man there seemed something strangely 
pathetic about the intense weariness of her atti¬ 
tude and, in two strides, he was over by her side. 

“ Little Peggy — aren’t we both playing at 
some game — some game that may ruin both 
our lives? Won’t you be honest, for once, with 
yourself — with me?” 

His voice was low and, as he spoke, his hand 
gripped her arm. 

The temptation to let herself be taken into 
his embrace, to sob out her weary heart on his 
shoulder was almost more than she could stand. 
It would be such a simple way of ending all her 
misery — and yet, she couldn’t quite drive out 
of her mind the memory of Joe; of his loyalty 
to her during the period of the trial, and of her 
sacred promise that she would be waiting to 
marry him upon his return to Boston. 

“ You’ve got to play up, Peggy,” she whis¬ 
pered fiercely, to herself. The next moment she 
had turned towards Doug and said lightly, 
although deliberately, as she avoided meeting 
his eyes, “ I think you’re letting your imagina¬ 
tion run away with you. I’m perfectly happy 
as things are.” 

As she spoke she smiled, a poor little ghost 
of a smile, and, without a backward glance, she 


268 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


passed from his sight in through the curtains 
to where more excitement prevailed around the 
dining table. But to her, the merriment, the 
laughter, seemed suddenly to have grown so 
meaningless, so hollow, like the grinning skeleton 
of joy at a feast for the dead. 

Shortly after that, upon the janitor complain¬ 
ing, in person, of the noise, the party broke up. 

Mr. Gale sent Peggy and Jenny home in his 
car. Peggy was unusually silent throughout the 
drive. She lay back in a corner, her eyes closed, 
her little face white and drawn. 

Jenny sat watching her, with a peculiar expres¬ 
sion on her face. Once she remarked, “ I didn’t 
think Doug was looking himself tonight. He 
seemed sort of worried and there was an unhappy 
look in his eyes.” 

“ He’s probably been hitting the pace lately,” 
suggested Peggy, with an attempt at careless¬ 
ness. 

But Jenny wasn’t deceived by her apparent 
indifference; she had seen several, things that 
night that gave her food for thought. 

After Peggy had gone up to her little attic 
bedroom in the Coffee House, Jenny lingered a 
while in the hall below. 

Presently she heard the sound of stifled sobs, 


JENNY MAKES A RESOLVE 269 


coming from above, sobs which gradually 
increased in volume until they were heart¬ 
breaking to hear. 

As she listened, wondering whether or not 
she should go up to comfort the girl, she had 
suddenly a vision of the look of intense longing 
and pain that she had seen in Doug’s face 
when he had looked across the room that night 
and seen Peggy seated beside Gale. 

Jenny clenched her hands tightly. “ It’s up 
to you to do something about it, Jenny Howard,” 
she said aloud. 

Not long after that the revue closed down. 
During the long hot evenings people much pre¬ 
ferred driving in the country to sitting in a 
stuffy theatre and, in consequence, for the last 
week or so, the show played to empty houses. 

The revue moved on to New Haven, but Peggy 
and Jenny remained behind in Boston. 

August was more than half spent when Peggy 
turned her attention to her trousseau. She now 
spent much of her time sewing, but she took little 
pleasure in the dainty garments her fingers 
made; tossing them aside into a drawer when 
they were finished, almost as though she were a 
paid seamstress who had no personal interest 
in the coming wedding. 


270 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


She often longed for Fifi to talk to as she 
worked, but, for some time, Fifi and Jim had 
been away at the seaside. 

One evening, as she sat embroidering a night 
gown of dainty blue silk, Jenny rushed excitedly 
into the room with a newspaper clutched in her 
hand. 

“ What do you think!” she exclaimed, “ the 
man who murdered Doug’s wife has confessed.” 

Together the two girls pored eagerly over the 
article, which told how a one-time lover of 
Gloria Wyman, whom she had discarded for 
someone else, had murdered her in a mad fit of 
jealousy. But the crime had evidently preyed 
so on his mind that, the evening before, he had 
committed suicide in a New York hotel, leaving 
behind him a written confession. 

There was a full-length photo of him pub¬ 
lished at the bottom of the page. 

“ He’s not unlike Doug,” remarked Jenny. 
“ I’m not surprised that the hotel clerk mistook 
them at the time of the trial.” 

August was fast passing into September and 
Joe was expected almost any day now. He 
wrote to say that he would leave home the 
moment his father could spare him and that he 
would announce the hour of his arrival by wire. 


JENNY MAKES A RESOLVE 271 


Peggy grew nervous and restless as the time 
for her wedding drew near, for Joe had written 
that he expected her to marry him almost 
immediately upon his arrival. She ate little and 
spent much of her time wandering aimlessly 
about the city streets. She was out on one of 
these excursions when a telegram for her was 
delivered at the Coffee House. 

Jenny took it in and, after the boy had left, 
she stood, for a moment hesitating with it in 
her hand. Then, with an air of decision, she 
slit it open. 

“Arrive 5.30 — South Station. Meet me 
Peggy — Love — Joe.” 

But it was Jenny, and not Peggy, who stood 
in the station that evening, waiting for the train 
from Albany and the Middle West to pull in. 

As she saw Joe step through the barrier, she 
went up to him and touched him on the sleeve. 

“ Oh, hello, Jenny,” he said, turning towards 
her. “ Where’s Peg?” 

“ She’s at the Coffee House. But Joe, I’ve 
got to talk to you before you see her. Come 
with me into the refreshment room.” 

She pulled on his sleeve and he followed her, 
reluctantly, with his suitcase in his hand. 

“ Can’t it wait until later, Jenny? I guess 


272 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


you know that I’m awfully keen to see Peg once 
more.” 

But Jenny was insistent. She found a vacant 
table for them in a corner and, herself, ordered 
coffee and buns. 

“ We can’t sit here without ordering,” she 
explained, “ and we may be here for some time.” 

“ Why didn’t Peg come down herself to meet 
me?” Joe asked, mystified, when the waitress 
had brought their order. 

“ Because she hasn’t any idea that you are 
arriving tonight,” Jenny answered calmly, “ I 
opened the telegram myself and I didn’t show it 
to Peggy.” 

Joe looked up quickly — an angry gleam in 
his eyes. “ What’s your game?” he asked, 
sharply. 


CHAPTER XXX 
Joe Comes up to Scratch 

Jenny looked hard at Joe and then drew a 
deep breath. 

“ When you see Peg tonight/’ she said slowly, 
“ you’ve got to tell her that, after thinking 
things over, you’ve decided that you want to 
break off the engagement.” 

Joe looked at her as though he thought that 
she had suddenly taken leave of her senses. 

“ What are you trying to pull over on me?” 
he said, after a strained pause. 

Jenny leant forward, with her hands locked 
beneath her chin. 

“ Joe,” she began seriously, “ would you want 
to marry Peggy if you knew that, in doing so, 
you were going to make her permanently miser¬ 
able? If you knew that she didn’t love you 
one scrap, and that she was quite madly in love 
with someone else?” 

Joe pushed his chair angrily away from the 
table. “ What’s all this about?” he demanded, 
sharply. “ Did Peggy send you here to say this 
to me?” 


273 


274 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


“ On the contrary,” said Jenny, “ she’d be 
furious if she knew what I was doing. I doubt 
if she’d ever speak to me again. But, you see, 
I’m willing to risk that as, above all things, I 
want to see her happy.” 

“ And you don’t think I’m capable of doing 
that?” he demanded. 

“ Frankly, no,” she returned, “ and you your¬ 
self know that as well as I do — only you’ve 
been kidding yourself all along that you can 
make her love you, in time.” 

“ Well, why can’t I?” he challenged. 

“ Because, if a woman doesn’t love a man 
before marriage, it’s a hundred to one that she 
won’t do so afterwards. And then — you seem 
to have forgotten that I told you there was 
someone else, and Peggy’s not the sort that 
changes.” 

“ Why are you so sure that she does love 
another man?” he asked. 

“ It’s a long story,” said Jenny, “ but I’ll tell 
you what I know of it.” 

And she proceeded to piece together for him 
the love affair of Peggy and Doug Wyman, 
beginning when she herself had first come to the 
Coffee House and ending with what she had 
observed at Mr. Gale’s party that night after 


JOE COMES UP TO SCRATCH 275 


the show, and what conclusions she had drawn 
from Peggy’s breakdown in her bedroom after¬ 
wards. 

“ If you haven’t seen all the time that she was 
in love with Doug, then you’re stupider than I 
think you are,” she concluded abruptly. 

Joe was silent after she had finished speaking; 
absently playing with his knife and fork on the 
marble-topped table. 

Somehow he knew, instinctively, that what 
Jenny had told him was true. He remembered, 
suddenly, the expression on Peggy’s face the day 
that he had accused her of being in love with 
Doug Wyman; he recollected that she had never 
denied it although, in his agitation, he, himself, 
had done so for her. Many incidents which 
hitherto he had considered trivial now seemed 
to take on a new significance. And yet, some¬ 
thing stubborn in the man fought against accept¬ 
ing, at once, this truth that had suddenly been 
forced home to him. 

“ If it’s as you say, why hasn’t she herself 
broken off the engagement?” he asked, roughly. 

“ I tell you, that puzzled me at first,” Jenny 
admitted. “ Myself, I wouldn’t have hesitated. 
But, lately, I’ve come to know Peggy better, and 
understand her point of view. She’s loyal to 


276 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


the core. She can’t forget how decent you were 
to her during the ordeal of the trial — and you 
know you really were decent about that,” she 
conceded warmly. 

Joe shifted awkwardly in his seat. 

“ I don’t want her to marry me out of grati¬ 
tude,” he said, slowly. “ I guess you know that 
I’m mighty gone on Peg. And I want her to be 
happy, even if it does mean that I’ll have to give 
her up,” his voice had grown husky and he 
hesitated a moment before continuing. “ But 
how do I know that this fellow is good enough 
for her?” 

Jenny smiled wryly. 

“ A girl doesn’t want a man good enough for 
her. She wants someone who will understand 
her.” 

“ I don’t agree with you there,” said Joe, 
“ but that’s beside the point. And how do I 
know if — if I release her that this fellow intends 
to marry her after all?” 

“ You needn’t worry on that score,” said 
Jenny. “ You can take my word for it, if that’s 
any help to you.” 

There was another long silence. 

Jenny’s heart went out to the man. There 
could be no doubting the intensity of his dis- 


JOE COMES UP TO SCRATCH 277 


appointment. When she had first met him he 
had seemed to her like some big, overgrown 
schoolboy in his joy at being back once more 
and now he sat before her all hunched up with 
the animation in his face replaced by lines of 
care. 

But she hardened her heart. After all, Doug's 
and Peggy's happiness must come first. 

“ I’d like to find out for certain that it's all 
true,” he said presently. “ I don’t want to 
accept everything on hearsay. Supposing I 
suggest to her that, if she likes, I’m willing to let 
her break the engagement and see how she 
takes it?” 

Jenny shook her head. 

“ That won't do,” she said, decidedly. “ She’ll 
only think that you're offering to release her for 
her own sake and, consequently, refuse. If you 
want her to be happy you've got to make her 
believe that you’re breaking the engagement for 
purely selfish reasons.” 

“ Don’t you think you’re asking rather too 
much?” he asked, angrily. 

Jenny shrugged. “ It all depends on how 
much you really care for Peggy,” she said, 
quietly. 

They argued for some time and, finally, Joe 


278 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


capitulated enough to say, with none too good 
a grace, “ All right. Just what do you want me 
to do?” 

Jenny leaned forward, eagerly. “ You’re to 
tell her that, while you’ve been at home, you’ve 
met another girl whom you have come to care 
for.” 

Joe stared at her incredulously. “ You expect 
me to tell her that?” 

“ It’s the only thing that will convince her 
of your sincerity. You’d even better describe 
the girl. And, after all, isn’t there anybody 
you’ve been with these last few months whom 
you might have liked if, well, if — there hadn’t 
been a Peggy waiting here for you?” 

Under her keen gaze Joe appeared a trifle 
self-conscious. “ Well, there is a girl whom I 
was practically brought up with,” he admitted, 
reluctantly. “ Eveline’s her name. She’s grown 
mighty pretty this last year and our families 
always were dead keen that eventually we’d 
make a match of it. I think she likes me, too. 
But, don’t run away with the idea that I’m struck 
on her. I never let Peggy out of my thoughts 
for an instant.” 

Quite suddenly, Jenny smiled. She was no 
longer so sorry for Joe. 


JOE COMES UP TO SCRATCH 279 


“Yes. Eveline will do very well,” she said. 
“ I suppose you haven’t a photo of her?” 

Joe hesitated momentarily. “ As a matter of 
fact she did shove one into my hand, just as 
the train was pulling out,” he conceded, sheep¬ 
ishly. “ Don’t think I asked her for it-” 

“ I wouldn’t for an instant,” smiled Jenny. 
“ Please show it to me.” 

Joe brought it out in a rather shamefaced 
manner. 

There could be no denying that Eveline was 
pretty. She had curly fair hair, an innocent, 
babyish expression, and big, saucer eyes. Under¬ 
neath the picture she had scrawled, “ Don’t 
forget to write to me — Eveline.” 

“ I take it she didn’t know about your engage¬ 
ment,” Jenny commented dryly. 

“ I was only home for such a short while I 
didn’t seem to get the chance to tell her,” Joe 
murmured, as he replaced the photograph in his 
pocket. 

But in spite of what Jenny had told him, 
all the way to the Coffee House Joe hoped that 
Peggy’s welcome would prove so warm and 
sincere that it would give the lie to what Jenny 
said. But, when he finally arrived, although 
Peggy tried to make her greeting cordial, Joe 



280 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


could not blind himself to the fact that it lacked 
spontaneity. 

So he told her what Jenny and he had planned 
as they stood together in the dining room with 
its quaint green tables and bright yellow cur¬ 
tains; he told her that he had met a girl out 
home whom he had grown to love — one Eveline. 
He didn’t look at Peggy as he was speaking; he 
couldn’t bring himself to do that but, as he 
finished, he produced the photograph and handed 
it across to her. 

She studied it critically during a pause that, 
to Joe, seemed interminable, and then she came 
towards him with hands outstretched and tears 
— tears of joy — in her eyes. 

“ Oh, Joe, I’m so glad — so glad,” she mur¬ 
mured. “ And I do hope that you’re going to be 
so very, very happy.” 

There could be no mistaking the glad relief 
in her voice; her whole attitude seemed suddenly 
to have changed; she was like a condemned 
woman in whose hands a reprieve had suddenly 
been placed. 

“ You don’t mind, Peggy? You don’t regret 
that I have met the girl?” 

She smiled frankly up into his eyes. 

“ Will it ease your mind, Joe, if I tell you 


JOE COMES UP TO SCRATCH 281 


that, although I have liked you and admired 
you, I have never cared for you in any other 
way than as a good pal?” 

He turned away from her; his throat working 
convulsively. Perhaps Joe had never done any¬ 
thing finer in his life than he had done in that 
last half hour — probably he never would again. 

Without speaking, he bent forward and kissed 
both her hands and then, without a single word, 
he turned abruptly and left her. 

The suddenness of his departure surprised 
Peggy; she moved forward and was just about 
to call him back when she heard the outer door 
slam behind him and the next moment she heard 
his footsteps, almost running, down the street. 

Peggy went up to her bedroom with quick, 
light steps. She seemed suddenly to have 
changed into the old, happy Peggy that she had 
been when first she had come to the Coffee 
House. She threw open her window and looked 
out to where a fierce, glowing sunset enflamed 
the sky. 

Something about it suddenly brought to her 
mind the evening, not so long ago, when she and 
Doug Wyman had watched the sunset together 
from the old ballroom at the Wayside Inn. 
Then her life, stretching before her, had seemed 


282 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


one glad promise of a wonderful future and now 
once again it seemed to her as though a vista of 
glorious possibilities stretched before her eyes. 

She was still standing there when, some time 
afterwards, she told an apparently astounded 
Jenny her news. She was too happy to notice 
the curious little smile that played about Jenny’s 
lips as she related to her the story that Joe had 
told her. 

Much later that evening, when Peggy had 
gone to bed, Jenny, excited and eager, feeling 
somewhat like the good fairy in the old nursery 
stories, sped round to the apartment where Doug 
Wyman lived and pressed the bell of his suite. 


CHAPTER XXXI 
Peggy Leaves the Hill 

September sunshine streaming in through 
Peggy’s bedroom window the next morning softly 
touched her face and red-brown hair, calling 
her back to consciousness. 

She opened her eyes and, after stretching her 
arms, she clasped them on the pillow beneath 
her head. 

As she recalled the events of the night before 
she sighed happily. It was wonderful to be free 
once more; free of all the sense of impending 
doom that the thought of her marriage with 
Joe had always evoked in her. 

She was happy, and now she felt that she had 
a perfect right to her happiness. How grate¬ 
ful she was to that girl — Eveline — whom she 
thought had won Joe away from her. At that 
moment she would have liked to have kissed her. 
She had a sort of intuition that Eveline and Joe 
would be perfectly suited to one another. 

There had been something soft and appealing 
about the girl’s face and Peggy felt that she 
283 


284 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


would make a good foil to Joe’s somewhat stub¬ 
born nature. 

It was Saturday morning. Peggy hadn’t the 
slightest idea what the time was and she didn’t 
greatly care. 

She was content to lie there and let a fresh 
breeze, coming in through the window, chase 
stray whisps of curling hair about her forehead. 
And, all at once, she was conscious of a keen 
sense of anticipation. She couldn’t quite 
describe her feeling but it was something which 
made queer little thrills of joy run up and down 
her spine; it was altogether a pleasant, delight¬ 
ful feeling. 

Suddenly, from below in the street, came three 
loud honks on a motor horn. There was some¬ 
thing strangely familiar to /Peggy about the 
sound of that horn and, springing out of bed, 
and, for no apparent reason, she felt her heart 
beating furiously. Once again she heard the 
sound of that horn; she sat up, abruptly, in bed 
she crossed shyly to the window, hiding herself 
behind a curtain as she peered down. 

Below in Pinckney Street stood a gray Stutz 
roadster; there was no doubt in her mind that 
it belonged to Doug Wyman. 

A hot color flooded her cheeks and one hand 


PEGGY LEAVES THE HILL 285 


flew quickly to her throat. At that moment she 
seemed incapable of moving. Thoughts, ideas, 
that made her tremble in an agony of joy, rushed 
helter skelter through her brain. 

Then, in feverish haste, she started to dress; 
laughing excitedly each time she put on some 
garment inside out or back to front. At last, with 
her nose powdered, her unruly hair straightened, 
and dressed in a pale primrose organdie frock 
that was to have been part of her trousseau, 
she started to descend the narrow winding stair¬ 
case. 

But, before she reached the bottom, a sudden 
fit of shyness overcame her. She stopped, with 
one hand on the banister, uncertain what to do. 

Just below she heard the murmur of voices 
— Jenny Howard’s and Doug Wyman’s. As she 
listened Jenny said: “ Peggy hasn’t come down 
yet, you’d better call her,” and the next moment 
Peggy heard the girl’s footsteps retreating down 
the hall. 

Doug came to the foot of the staircase. 

“ Peggy — little Peggy,” he cried, softly. 

“ I’m — I’m here,” she faltered and, uncer¬ 
tainly, she came down two more steps. 

But Doug didn’t wait for her to reach the 
bottom. He sprang up the remaining stairs and 


286 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


gathered her in his arms, carrying her down as 
though she had been a piece of thistledown. 

In that moment it seemed to Peggy as though 
the last few months of heartache and misery had 
never been; she was once more the gay, care¬ 
free Peggy who had promised her love to Doug 
that late afternoon at the old Wayside Inn. 

And yet, there were certain things she didn’t 
understand. How had Doug known so soon that 
her engagement to Joe had been broken? How 
was it that he seemed suddenly so sure of her 
love? And, as she lay there in his arms, looking 
up into his face, she managed to ask him, in an 
adorably confused manner. 

“ A good little fairy came round to see me 
last night, Peggy,” he answered, “ and she 
explained — many things.” 

Peggy smiled whimsically. 

“ That’s Jenny. Yes, she is a good little fairy, 
Doug, although once I thought her a bad one.” 
A moment later she added, “ Don’t you think 
that you might as well put me down?” 

But he only laughed, a glad, ringing laugh, and 
held her closer. 

“ I’m not putting you down until you’ve told 
me with your own lips that you love me, little 
Peggy,” he whispered. “ It’s such a long, weary 


PEGGY LEAVES THE HILL 287 


while since I’ve heard you say those words.” 

Slowly she put up her hand and touched his 
brown, curling hair; it was funny how often 
she had longed to do just that. She pouted 
adorably, “ You’re so sure of my love, then?” 

He smiled into her eyes — the old, mocking 
smile that she had never been able to resist. 

“ Do you think that, had I been sure of it 
all these months, little Peggy, that I would have 
allowed anything — anything on earth, to come 
between us?” 

And, although his eyes still smiled, his face 
was grave. 

She sighed contentedly and wound her arms 
around his neck. She was so wonderfully happy; 
so utterly at peace with all the world. 

She felt that once more her love barque was 
safely at anchor in a peaceful, sunlit harbor, 
rocking gently with the slow motion of the tide. 
And even though in the days that were to come, 
storms might sweep that harbor, never again, 
she felt sure, would her love barque be carried 
far out to mid-ocean where, once during these 
last terrible months it had been tossed hither and 
thither by giant, monster waves and almost 
wrecked. 

Presently, as they went laughing, hand in 


288 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


hand, like two happy children, to tell Jenny their 
news, Doug exclaimed, suddenly: “ It’s Satur¬ 
day, Peggy. Why shouldn’t the three of us, 
you, Jenny and I, go down in my roadster and 
join Fifi and Jim at the seaside? Think what a 
surprise it would be for them!” 

The two girls eagerly welcomed the idea and 
it was a gay, laughing trio who motored through¬ 
out the greater part of the day and, in the 
evening, found themselves driving along the sea¬ 
shore where blue-gray waves broke along a vast 
expanse of silver sand and where the glistening 
gold of the sun’s dying rays touched it. 

They broke in upon Fifi and Jim as they 
sat at dinner. The Gordons were delighted; 
showering them with congratulations. Extra 
chairs were placed immediately at their table 
and, during the meal, plans for the wedding were 
eagerly discussed. 

They decided on a quiet wedding in the middle 
of September, just after Fifi and Jim were due 
back in Boston. Peggy and Doug saw no point 
in waiting; they were eager to start on their 
honeymoon trip which was to take them through 
England, France and Italy. 

Jenny entered whole heartedly into the dis¬ 
cussion as excited as if it were her own wedding 


PEGGY LEAVES THE HILL 289 


she was planning instead of Peggy’s. But, 
occasionally, when the others weren’t watching 
her, a half sad, half wistful expression would 
steal over her face. She was beginning to realize 
poignantly the value of the thing she had once 
cast aside. 

They danced after dinner in the softly lighted 
ballroom that looked out onto the silver, moonlit 
waves as they rolled in slowly towards the land. 

During an interval Peggy and Doug wandered 
out onto a balcony and stood enwrapped in the 
soft, dark mystery of night. He gathered her 
to him as he pointed seawards. 

“ Look, little Peggy,” he whispered. “ In 
two short weeks we will be tossing together on 
that ocean — in two short weeks, sweetheart, 
you will be mine.” 

As he gazed into her eyes she turned her head 
away, confused, yet thrilled, by the look of eager 
anticipation that she had read in his. 

Peggy made a charming bride. She and Doug 
were married in a little church at the foot of 
Beacon Hill. Fifi was her maid of honor and 
Jenny, Jim and Peggy’s brother Jack were among 
the few spectators. 

The church was festive with great white roses 
and Peggy herself carried a bouquet of lilies of 


290 PEGGY OF BEACON HILL 


the valley, carnations and maiden hair fern. 

She was dressed simply and sweetly in a plain 
white satin frock with a flowing veil of ivory 
tulle. 

While the register was being signed, Jack 
Mason stepped up to Jenny. “ What about 
going through all this with me, some day, 
Jenny ?” he whispered in her ear. 

She turned startled — incredulous eyes to his. 
“ You’re — you’re joking, Jack,” she faltered, 
weakly. 

“ Never more serious in my life, Jenny. What 
do you say to it?” 

Her face worked convulsively. Eager happi¬ 
ness being finally suppressed by the old, damn¬ 
ing conviction that such joys were not for such 
as she. 

She turned away from him. “ It’s awfully — 
dear of you, Jack. But you see, first I’d have 
to tell you certain things and then, I’m sure, 
you wouldn’t want me-” 

Her voice trailed away miserably — she was 
blinking back the tears that were crowding into 
her eyes. 

“ Gosh, Jenny,” he murmured. “ Do you 
think that I’m as mean as all that? And don’t 
think you need tell me anything, my dear — it’s 



PEGGY LEAVES THE HILL 291 


not your past I want to marry, but your future.” 

And, as she was still silent, he continued, 
gently, “ Jenny, dear, you’ve nothing on me. If 
you’ll take me, I think we’ll be about quits.” 

The wedding breakfast was eaten at Fifi’s 
and as later Peggy, sweet and shy in a dove gray 
suit, stood in the hall waiting while her suit-case 
was put into the car that was to start them on 
their honeymoon, Fifi whispered in her ear: “ So 
you married your bold, bad villain in the end, 
Peggy. But perhaps after all he wasn’t the 
villain but the hero of your story. Life mixes 
things so queerly at times.” 


THE END 





















































































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